THE   RETURN    OF 
§&   PETER  GRIMM  & 


PS  1085  B23  R42 


3  1822  01203  8220 


DAVID  BELASCO 


3   1822  01203  8220 

I^MLti  UfcNlA  I 

C  A  l\  •     r-M  •-  ,-».-. 

J 


i 


SAN 


The  Return  of  Peter  Grimm 


"Sleep  well,"  said  Peter  Grimm.  "I  wish  you  the  very 
pleasantest  of  dreams  a  boy  could  have  in  this 
world"  (page  321) 


The  Return  of  Peter  Grimm 

NOVELISED    FROM    THE    PLAY 
BY 

DAVID   BELASCO 


ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

JOHN  RAE 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,   MEAD   AND    COMPANY 
1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

Published,  September,  1912 


THE   CUINN    H   BOOEN    CO.  PRESS 

RAH'A'AY,    N.   J. 


CONTENTS 


I  A  MAN  AND  A  MAID     .... 

II  THE  HEIR 

III  PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  . 

IV  A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY 

V  A  QUEER  COMPACT         .... 

VI  BREAKING  THE  NEWS     .... 

VII  THE  HAND  RELAXES     .... 

VIII  AFTERWARD 

IX  THE  EVE  OF  A  WEDDING 

X  A  WASTED  PLEA    ..... 

XI  THE  LEGACIES 

XII  MOSTLY  CONCERNING  GRATITUDE 

XIII  THE  RETURN 

XIV  "I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"  . 
XV  A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE 

XVI  THE  "SENSITIVE" 

XVII  MR.  BATHOLOMMEY  TESTIFIES 

XVIII  DR.  MCPHERSON'S  STATEMENT 

XIX  BACK  TO  THE  STORY     .... 

XX  THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  DOUBT 

XXI  "ONLY  ONE  THING   REALLY   COUNTS" 

XXII  "ALL  THAT  HAPPENS,  HAPPENS  AGAIN" 

XXIII  THE  DAWNING 

XXIV  THE  GOOD-BYE 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Sleep  well,"  said  Peter  Grimm.  "I  wish  you 
the  very  pleasantest  of  dreams  a  boy  could 
have  in  this  world"  (page  321)  .  Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"I  believe,"  said  Peter  irrelevantly,   "that  St. 

Paul  was  a  single  man,  was  he  not,  Pastor?"       86 

"Who's  in  the  room!"  he  demanded          .         .     202 


The  Return  of  Peter  Grimm 


CHAPTER  I 

A  MAN  AND  A  MAID 

THE  train  drew  to  a  halt  at  the  Junction.  There 
was  a  fine  jolt  that  ran  the  length  of  the  cars,  fol 
lowed  by  a  clank  of  couplings  and  a  half-intelli 
gible  call  from  the  conductor. 

The  passengers, — dusty,  jaded,  crossly  annoyed 
at  the  need  of  changing  cars, — gathered  up  their 
luggage  and  filed  out  onto  the  bare,  roofless  station 
platform.  There,  after  a  look  down  the  long 
converging  rails  in  vain  hope  of  sighting  the  train 
they  were  to  take,  they  fell  to  glancing  about  the 
cheerless  station  environs. 

Far  away  were  rolling  hills,  upland  fields  of 
wind-swept  wheat,  cool,  dark  stretches  of  wood 
land.  But  around  the  station  were  areas  of  ill- 
kept  lots,  with  here  and  there  a  jerry-built  cot 
tage,  sadly  in  need  of  shoring,  and  bereft  of 
paint.  Across  the  road  on  one  side  stood  the 
general  store  with  its  clump  of  porch-step  loaf 
ers  and  its  windows  full  of  gaudy  advertise 
ments.  To  the  side,  and  parallel  with  the  tracks, 

3 


4          THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

sprawled  a  huge,  weather-buffeted  signboard  that 
read: 

"  Grimm's  Botanical  Gardens  and  Nurseries. 

i  Mile." 

The  passengers  eyed  the  half-defaced  lettering, 
pessimistically.  But  almost  at  once  they  received 
a  far  pleasanter  reminder  of  the  botanical  gar 
dens.  A  boy,  flushed  with  running,  and  evidently 
distressed  at  being  late,  pattered  up  the  road  and 
onto  the  platform.  From  one  of  his  fragile  arms 
hung  a  great  basket.  The  lid  had  fallen  aside  and 
showed  the  basket  piled  to  the  brim  with  fresh 
flowers. 

Hurrying  to  the  nearest  passenger — an  obese 
travelling  man  who  mopped  a  very  red  face, — 
the  boy  timidly  held  a  Gloire  de  Dijon  rose  up  to 
him  and  recited  with  parrot-like  glibness: 

"  With  the  compliments  of  Peter  Grimm." 

The  fat  man  half  unconsciously  took  the  rose 
from  the  little  hand  and  stood  looking  as  though 
in  dire  doubt  what  to  do  with  it.  The  boy  did 
not  help  him  out.  Already  he  had  moved  on  to 
the  next  passenger, — this  time  a  man  of  clerical 
bearing  and  suspiciously  vivid  nose, — and  handed 
him  a  gleaming  Madonna  lily. 


A  MAN  AND  A  MAID  5 

"  With  the  compliments  of  Peter  Grimm,"  he 
announced,  passing  on  to  the  next. 

And  so  on  down  the  bunched  line  of  waiting 
men  and  women  the  lad  made  his  way.  In  front 
of  each,  he  paused,  presented  a  flower  taken  at 
random  from  the  basket,  recited  his  droning  for 
mula,  and  passed  on. 

The  fat  travelling  man  stared  stupidly  at  his 
rose.  Then  he  looked  about  him,  half  shame 
facedly  and  in  wonder. 

"  What  in  blazes ?  "  he  began. 

"  You  must  be  a  stranger  in  this  part  of  the 
state,"  volunteered  a  big  young  fellow,  who  had 
just  come  out  of  the  waiting-room.  "  Did  you 
never  hear  of  the  flower-giving  at  the  Junction?  " 

"  No.  What's  the  idea?  Is  it  done  on  a  bet? 
Or  is  it  an  *  ad '  for  the  man  on  the  sign  over 
there?" 

"  Neither.  It  has  been  Peter  Grimm's  custom 
for  twenty  years  or  more.  Ever  since  I  first 
knew  him." 

"And  it  isn't  an  ad?" 

"  No,"  was  the  enigmatic  answer  as  the  big 
young  man  moved  off  in  the  wake  of  the  lad. 
"  It's  Peter  Grimm." 

The  boy  meanwhile  had  reached  the  last  of  the 


6          THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

passengers.  She  was  middle-aged  and  motherly- 
looking.  She  peered  down  at  him  with  more 
than  common  interest  as  he  went  through  his 
pat  little  presentation  formula.  A  psychologist 
would  have  gathered  much  from  the  lad's  tense, 
flushed  face  and  in  the  oddly  strained  look  of  the 
big  blue  eyes.  To  this  woman,  he  was  only  a 
thin,  lonely  looking  youngster,  whose  face  held  an 
unconscious  appeal  that  she  answered  without  read 
ing  it. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Peter  Grimm 
for  sending  me  this  lovely  flower,"  she  said,  a  little 
patronisingly,  as  she  sniffed  at  the  half-opened 
Killarney  rose  she  held. 

"  You  need  not  be,"  answered  the  boy.  "  He 
didn't  really  send  it  to  you.  In  fact,  I'm  quite 
sure  he  never  even  heard  of  you.  He  just  sent 
it  because  he  is  good  and  because " 

"  Because  he  loves  flowers,"  suggested  the 
woman  as  the  boy  hesitated. 

"  No,"  corrected  the  boy,  in  his  gentle,  old- 
fashioned  diction,  wherein  lurked  the  faintest 
trace  of  foreign  accent,  "  I  never  heard  him  say 
anything  about  loving  flowers.  But  I  know  the 
flowers  love  him." 

"What?" 


A  MAN  AND  A  MAID  7 

"  You  see,  they  grow  for  him  as  they  don't  grow 
for  any  one  else.  Much  better  I  am  sure,"  he 
added  a  little  bitterly,  "  than  they  will  ever  grow 
for  Frederik.  I  don't  think  flowers  love  Fred- 
erik." 

"  What  queer  ideas  you  have !  "  she  laughed, 
embarrassed  at  his  quiet  statement  of  facts  that 
seemed  to  her  absurd.  "  Are  you  Mr.  Grimm's 
son?" 

"  No,  ma'am.  He  is  not  married.  I  don't 
think  he  has  any  sons  at  all.  I'm  Anne  Marie's 


son." 


"Anne  Marie?     Anne  Marie — what?" 

"  Just  Anne  Marie.     I'm  Willem,  you  know." 

"  William?" 

"  No,  ma'am.     Willem." 

"Willem  Grimm?" 

"  No,  ma'am.  Anne  Marie's  Willem.  I — Oh, 
Mr.  Hartmann !  "  he  broke  off,  catching  sight  of 
the  big  young  man  who  drew  near,  "  Mynheer 
Peter  said  you'd  be  on  this  train.  Now  I  can 
have  some  one  to  walk  back  with." 

Slipping  his  hand  into  Hartmann's,  Willem 
turned  his  back  on  the  platformful  of  perspiring 
beneficiaries  and,  together,  the  two  struck  off  down 
the  yellow,  dusty  road  toward  the  double  row  of 


8          THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

giant  elms  that  marked  the  beginning  of  the  vil 
lage  street. 

William  shuffled  in  high  contentment  alongside 
his  big  companion.  And  as  he  walked,  he  stole 
upward  and  sidelong  glances  of  furtive  hero  wor 
ship  at  the  tall,  plainly  clad  figure.  Jim  Hart- 
mann  was  of  a  build  and  aspect  to  rouse  such 
worship  in  the  frail  little  fellow.  He  had  the 
shoulders,  the  chest  girth,  the  stride  of  an  athlete, 
tempered  by  the  slight  roundness  of  those  same 
shoulders,  the  non-expansiveness  of  chest,  and  the 
heavy  tread  of  the  large  man  whose  strength  and 
physique  have  been  acquired  at  manual  labour  in 
stead  of  in  athletics.  A  figure  more  common  east 
of  the  Atlantic  than  in  America. 

His  dark  suit  was  neat  and  fitted  honestly  well. 
But  it  was  palpably  not  the  suit  of  a  man  whose 
father  had  worn  custom-made  clothes  or  whose 
own  earlier  youth  had  been  blessed  with  such 
garments.  Yet  there  was  a  breezy,  staunch  out- 
doorness  about  the  whole  man  that  reminded  one 
of  a  breath  of  mountain  air  in  a  close  room  and 
left  half  unnoticed  the  details  of  costume  and 
bearing. 

"  Weren't  you  glad  to  get  away  from  New 
York  City?"  queried  the  boy  as  they  came  into 


A  MAN  AND  A  MAID  9 

the  elm  shade  of  Grimm  Manor's  one  real  street. 
"  A  week  is  an  awful  long  time  to  be  away  from 
here." 

"  You  bet  it  is.  You're  a  lucky  chap  to  be  able 
to  stay  at  Grimm  Manor  all  the  time  instead  of 
being  sent  here,  there,  and  everywhere  on  busi 
ness." 

"I  shouldn't  like  that,"  assented  the  boy;  "I 
think  people  would  be  very  liable  of  losing  their 
way.  I  wonder  if  Mynheer  Peter  will  send  me 
'  here,  there,  and  everywhere  on  business  '  when 
I'm  older." 

"  Perhaps,"  agreed  Hartmann,  catching  the 
slight  note  of  wistfulness  in  Willem's  voice. 
"  You're  beginning  the  way  I  began.  It  wasn't 
more  than  a  week  after  my  father  got  his  garden 
ing  job  with  Mr.  Grimm  that  I  used  to  be  sent 
up  to  meet  the  trains  with  a  basket  of  flowers 
and  '  the  compliments  of  Peter  Grimm.'  It  seems 
more  like  yesterday  than  eighteen  years  ago." 

"  I'm  glad  you're  back  from  New  York  City," 
said  the  boy,  circling  back  to  the  conversation's 
starting-point.  "  It's  been  rather  lonely.  Myn 
heer  Peter  has  been  so  busy.  And  Frederik " 

"  Well,"  queried  Jim  as  the  boy  checked  him 
self  and  looked  nervously  behind  him,  "  what 


io        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

about  Frederik?  And  why  do  you  always  look 
like  that  when  you  speak  of  him?" 

"Like  what?" 

"  As  if  you  were  afraid  some  one  would  slap 
you.  Is  Frederik  ever  unkind  to  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  denied  the  boy,  in  scared  haste.  "  No, 
he  never  is.  He — he  doesn't  notice  me  at  all. 
That's  what  I  was  going  to  say.  He  doesn't 
seem  to  care  to.  But  he  likes  to  be  with  Kathrien, 
I  think.  Yes,  I'm  sure  he  does.  I  think  Kathrien 
missed  you,  too,  Mr.  Hartmann." 

The  big  man  grew  of  a  sudden  vaguely  em 
barrassed.  He  cast  back  along  the  trail  of 
the  talk  for  some  divergent  path,  and  found 
one. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it's  good  to  be  back  from 
New  York.  The  city  always  seems  to  cramp  me 
and  make  it  hard  for  me  to  breathe.  The  pave 
ments  hurt  my  feet  and  I  have  a  silly  feeling  as 
though  the  skyscrapers  were  going  to  topple  in 
ward." 

He  was  talking  to  himself  rather  than  to  the 
boy.  But  Willem  rejoined  sympathetically: 

"  I  don't  like  New  York  City  either." 

"  You,  why  you  surely  can't  remember  when 
you  used  to  live  there?  " 


A  MAN  AND  A  MAID  n 

The  boy's  fair  brow  creased  in  an  effort  of 
memory. 

"  Sometimes,"    he    hesitated,     "  I    can.     And 

/ 

sometimes  I  don't  seem  able  to.  But  I  remember 
Anne  Marie.  She  cried." 

"How  is  Mynheer  Peter?"  demanded  Hart- 
mann  with  galvanic  suddenness.  "  And  how  are 
that  last  lot  of  Madonna  lilies  coming  on  ?  They 
ought  to  be " 

"  Sometimes,"  went  on  the  boy,  still  following 
his  own  line  of  thought  and  oblivious  of  the  in 
terruption,  "  sometimes  I  wonder  why  she  cried. 
Sometimes  for  a  minute  or  two — mostly  at  night, 
when  I'm  nearly  asleep — I  seem  to  remember  why. 
|But  I  always  forget.  Mr.  Hartmann,  did  you  see 
Anne  Marie  when  you  were  in  New  York  City?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not.  How  are  Lad  and  Rex 
and  Paddy?  And  do  they  still  dig  for  moles  in 
the  flower-beds?  Or  did  the  dose  of  red  pepper 
my  father  scattered  over  the  beds  cure  them  of 
digging?" 

"  I  wonder,"  observed  Willem,  "  why  every 
body  always  talks  about  everything  else  when  I 
want  to  talk  about  Anne  Marie.  And  if  other 
fellows'  mothers  come  to  see  them  and  live  with 
them,  why  doesn't  Anne  Marie  come  and  live 


12         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

with  me?  I  asked  Oom  Peter  once  and  he 
said " 

"  I've  got  to  leave  you  now  and  hurry  over 
to  Mynheer  Grimm's  office  with  my  report,"  broke 
in  Hartmann.  "  My  train  was  a  little  late  any 
how  and  you  know  how  he  hates  to  be  kept  wait- 
ing." 

They  had  entered  a  wide  gateway  and  had 
come  from  suburban  America,  at  a  step,  into  rural 
Holland.  The  prim  gravelled  drive  led  between 
acres  of  prosaically  regular  flower-beds,  flanked 
on  one  side  by  a  domed  green  house  and  on  the 
other  by  a  creaking  Dutch  windmill  with  weather- 
browned  sails. 

Straight  ahead  and  absurdly  near  the  road  for 
a  country  house  that  boasted  so  much  land  about 
it,  was  the  stone  and  yellow  stucco  cottage  that  for 
centuries  had  sheltered  successive  generations  of 
Grimms.  Painfully  neat,  unpicturesquely  ugly,  the 
house  stood  among  its  great  oaks.  It  did  not 
nestle  among  them.  It  stood.  As  well  expect  a 
breadth  of  starched  brown  holland  to  nestle.  To 
deprive  the  abode  of  any  lingering  taint  of  pic- 
turesqueness,  a  blue  and  white  signboard,  thirty 
feet  long,  stretching  between  it  and  the  main  street, 
flashed  to  all  the  passing  world  the  news  that  this 


A  MAN  AND  A  MAID  13 

was  the  headquarters  of  the  celebrated  "  Grimm's 
Botanical  Gardens  and  Nurseries." 

The  interior  of  the  house  was  as  delightful  as 
its  outside  was  hideous.  Here,  neatness  raised  to 
the  wth  power  chanced  to  strike  the  keynote  of  a 
certain  beauty.  The  big  living-room,  with  its 
stairway  leading  to  the  bedroom  gallery  above, 
was  a  repository  of  curios  that  would  have  set  an 
antiquary  mad.  From  the  ancient  clock  to  the 
priceless  old  blue  china,  three-fourths  of  the  room's 
appointments  might  have  served  to  deck  a  Holland 
museum.  The  remaining  fourth  contained  such 
articles  as  a  glaringly  modern  telephone  on  a  non 
descript  desk,  and  a  compromise  between  old  and 
new  in  the  shape  of  a  square  piano  in  the  bay 
window,  an  ancient  table.  And  several  patently 
twentieth  century  articles  helped  still  further  to 
rob  the  place  of  any  harmony  or  unison  in  effect. 

An  altogether  charming  Dutch  maiden  was 
dusting,  and  occasionally  stopping  to  restore  some 
slightly  disarranged  article  to  its  mathematically 
neat  position.  In  her  blue  Dutch  cap,  her  blue 
delft  gown,  and  white  kerchief,  she  seemed  to 
have  danced  down  out  of  the  past  to  strike  the 
one  note  of  vivid  life  in  all  that  sombre-furnished 
place. 


14        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

She  paused  in  the  sweep  of  sunshine  that  poured 
through  the  muslin-curtained  bay  window.  A 
step  had  sounded  in  the  passage  leading  from  the 
rear  of  the  house; — a  step  she  evidently  knew. 
For  the  full  young  lips  broke  into  an  involuntary 
smile  of  expectancy,  while  the  big  eyes  grew  all 
at  once  eager  and  happy.  Jim  Hartmann,  a  pen 
behind  his  ear,  a  bundle  of  mail  in  his  hand,  came 
into  the  room.  He  had  reached  the  desk  and  de 
posited  his  packet  there  before  he  caught  sight 
of  her.  Then,  wide-eyed,  silent,  tense,  he  halted, 
gazing  at  the  sunshine-bathed  figure  in  the  window 
embrasure.  For  an  instant  neither  of  them  spoke. 
It  was  the  girl  who  broke  the  silence,  her  voice 
charged  with  a  strange  shyness. 

"  Good-morning,  James,"  she  said  primly. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  Katie,"  he  answered  me 
chanically,  his  eyes  still  wide  with  the  loveliness 
of  the  sun-kissed  face  that  so  suddenly  broke  in 
upon  his  workaday  routine. 

"  I  wondered  if  you'd  gotten  back  yet,"  she  con 
tinued,  seeming  to  hunt  industriously  for  a  phrase 
of  sufficiently  meaningless  decorum. 

"  I  got  back  ten  minutes  ago.  I  reported  to 
Mr.  Grimm  and  brought  the  morning  mail  in  here 
to  look  over  for  him.  It  seems  strange  to  find  the 


A  MAN  AND  A  MAID  15 

day  so  far  advanced  at  this  hour,"  he  went  on,  talk 
ing  at  random.  "  After  a  week  in  New  York, 
where  no  one  thinks  of  doing  business  before  nine 
in  the  morning,  it's  like  coming  into  another  world 
to  be  back  here  where  the  day's  work  begins  at 
five." 

He  sat  down,  pleasantly  regardless  of  the  fact 
that  she  was  still  standing,  and  began  to  open 
and  sort  the  letters  before  him.  The  girl  noticed 
that  his  big  hands  fumbled  at  the  unfamiliar  task. 
But  she  noticed  far  more  keenly  the  strength  and 
massive  shapeliness  of  the  hands  themselves. 

"  Do  you  like  being  secretary?  "  she  queried. 

"  Yes,  in  a  way.  I've  walked  '  outside  '  in  the 
gardens  and  nurseries  so  many  years,  it  seems  queer 
to  be  penned  up  indoors  and  have  to  scribble 
letters  and  open  mail.  But  I'd  sooner  shovel  dirt 
than  not  be  here  at  all.  I  couldn't  last  a  month 
at  a  job  where  there  wasn't  gardening  going  on 
all  around  me  and  where  I  couldn't  sneak  off  once 
in  a  while  and  do  a  bit  of  it  myself." 

"  That's  the  way  I  feel,"  she  said  simply, 
"  though  I  never  thought  to  put  it  in  words  before. 
I  must  live  where  things  are  growing.  Where, 
every  time  I  look  out  of  the  window,  I  can  see 
orchards  and  shrubs  and  hothouses.  Oh,  it's  all 


1 6         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

so  beautiful !  And,  James,  our  orchids  this  season 
— but  I  forgot.  You  don't  care  for  orchids/' 

"  They're  pretty  enough,  I  suppose,"  vouch 
safed  Hartmann.  "  But  the  big  men  in  the  busi 
ness  are  doing  wonderful  things  with  potatoes  these 
days.  And  look  at  what  Father  Burbank's  done  in 
creating  an  edible  cactus !  Sometimes  it  makes  me 
feel  bitter  when  I  think  what  I  might  have  done 
with  vegetables  if  I  hadn't  squandered  so  much 
God'given  time  studying  Greek." 

«  But—" 

"  Oh,  yes.  It  made  a  hit  with  father  to  have 
me  study  a  lot  of  things  that  would  only  help  a 
college  professor.  He's  worked  in  the  dirt,  in 
overalls,  all  his  life.  And  like  most  people  who 
never  had  one,  he  sets  a  crazy  value  on  so-called 
'  education.'  But  all  this  can't  interest  you,"  he 
finished  ruefully. 

"  It  does  interest  me.  You  know  it  does.  But 
there's  something  I'd  like  to  say  to  you  if  you 
won't  be  angry." 

"  At  you?     Why " 

"  It's  this :  I  want  you  so  much  to  get  on.  Why 
won't  you  try  harder  to— to  please  Uncle  Peter?  " 

"  I  do  try.  I'm  square  with  him.  That's  the 
trouble.  That's  why  I  don't  make  more  of  a  hit. 


A  MAN  AND  A  MAID  17 

He  asks  me  my  '  honest  opinion  '  about  something 
or  other.  I  give  it.  Then  he  blows  up." 

"  But  if  you'd  try  to  be  more  tactful " 

"  You  said  that  once  before  to  me,  Miss  Katie. 
I  asked  you  what '  tactful '  meant.  And  when  you 
told  me " 

"  When  I  told  you,  you  said  it  was  '  just  a 
fancy  name  for  being  hypocritical.'  But  it  isn't, 
a  bit.  Can't  you  try  not  to  be  quite  so — so ?  " 

"Cranky?" 

"  No,  blunt.  It  will  smooth  things  over  so 
much  with  Uncle  Peter.  He's  really  the  gentlest, 
dearest " 

"  I've  noticed  it,"  said  Hartmann  drily.  "  But 
I'll  try  if  you  want  me  to.  I  promise." 

;<  Thank  you,"  she  answered. 

And,  perhaps  to  seal  the  pledge,  their  hands  met. 
The  sealing  of  a  pledge  is  not  a  matter  to  slur 
over  with  careless  haste,  but  requires  due  time. 
And  it  was  but  natural  that  the  handclasp  should 
be  symbolic  of  that  deliberation.  Indeed,  it  is 
hard  to  say  just  how  long  his  big  hand  and  her 
little  one  might  have  remained  clasped  together 
had  inclination  been  allowed  to  prevail.  But,  as 
usual  in  Hartmann's  life,  inclination  was  not  con 
sulted.  ,The  door  behind  them  opened  sharply, 


1 8         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

and  the  clasped  hands  parted  as  if  at  a  signal. 
Hartmann  slipped  back  into  his  chair  at  the  desk, 
while  the  girl  busied  herself  with  a  new  and  com 
mendable  activity  in  her  task  of  setting  the  im 
maculate  room  to  rights. 

Both  seemed  to  realise  without  turning  around 
that  one  more  of  their  too  brief  interviews  had 
been  unceremoniously  cut  short. 

The  man  whose  advent  caused  the  curtailment 
of  the  promise's  sealing  was  as  foreign  looking 
as  the  room  itself.  Dapper,  dressed  in  a  sort  of 
elaborate  carelessness,  his  figure  alone  carried  with 
it  an  air  of  assurance  that  Hartmann  always  found 
almost  as  irritating  as  the  man's  gracefully  exag 
gerated  manner  and  speech.  His  blonde  hair  was 
brushed  back  from  a  high,  narrow  forehead.  A 
turned-up  moustache  and  a  close-trimmed  and 
pointed  Van  Dyke  beard  added  to  the  foreign 
aspect. 

The  newcomer  took  in  the  scene  with  a  glance 
that  apparently  grasped  none  of  its  details.  He 
nodded  curtly  to  Hartmann,  then  crossed  to  where 
the  girl  was  dusting. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   HEIR 

"  HELLO,  Kitty,"  he  said.     "  Good-morning." 

"  Good-morning,  Frederik,"  responded  the  girl, 
and  started  toward  the  stairs. 

But  the  man  intercepted  her.  Catching  her 
playfully  by  the  arm  he  tried  to  draw  her  toward 
him. 

"  You're  pretty  as  a  June  rose  to-day,"  he 
laughed. 

Hartmann,  instinctively,  had  half-risen  from  his 
chair.  The  girl,  noting  his  movement  and  the 
frown  gathering  on  his  face,  checked  her  impulse 
to  retort,  quietly  disengaged  herself  from  the 
newcomer's  familiar  grasp,  and  ran  up  the  short 
stair  flight  that  led  into  the  gallery. 

In  no  way  offended,  the  man  glanced  after 
her  with  another  short  laugh,  then  turned  to 
Hartmann. 

"  Where's  my  uncle?  "  he  asked. 

Hartmann  looked  up  with  elaborate  slowness 
from  the  notes  he  was  making  of  the  newly  opened 
mail.  His  eyes  at  last  rested  on  the  dapper  figure 

19 


20         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

before  him,  with  the  impersonal,  faintly  irritated 
gaze  one  might  bestow  on  a  yelping  puppy. 

"  Mr.  Grimm  is  outside,"  he  answered.  "  He's 
watching  my  father  spray  the  plum  trees.  The 
black  knot's  getting  ahead  of  us  this  year." 

"  I  wonder,"  grumbled  Frederik,  lounging 
across  to  the  window,  "  if  it's  possible  once  a  year 
to  ask  a  simple  question  of  any  inmate  of  this 
cursedly  dreary  old  place  without  getting  a  botan 
ical  answer." 

"  That's  what  we  are  here  for — those  of  us 
that  work,"  said  Hartmann,  returning  to  his  note 
making. 

"  Work,  work,  work  I "  mocked  Frederik. 
"  When  I  inherit  my  beloved  uncle's  fortune,  I 
shall  buy  up  all  the  dictionaries  and  have  that 
wretched  word  crossed  out  of  them." 

Hartmann  made  no  reply.  He  did  not  seem 
to  have  heard.  But  Frederik,  absently  ripping 
to  atoms  a  Richmond  rose  from  the  window  table 
vase,  continued  his  muttered  tirade.  An  inatten 
tive  audience  was  better  than  none. 

"Work!"  he  growled.  "When  people  here 
aren't  talking  about  it,  they're  doing  it.  Grubby, 
earthy  work.  And  it  was  to  prepare  for  this  sort 
of  thing  that  I  loafed  through  Leyden  and  Heidel- 


THE  HEIR  21 

berg!  Yes,  and  loafed  through,  creditably,  too; 
even  if  Oom  Peter  did  bully  me  into  making  a 
specialty  of  botany.  Botany!  Dry  as  dust. 
After  the  Univerrity  and  after  my  wanderjahr, 
I  thought  it  would  be  another  easy  task  to  come 
here,  and  '  learn  the  business.'  Easy !  As  easy 
as  the  treadmill.  And  as  congenial." 

"  I  wonder  you  don't  tell  Mr.  Grimm  all  that. 
I'm  sure  it  would  interest  him." 

"  My  dear,  worthy  uncle,  who  builds  such 
wonderful  hopes  on  me?  Not  I.  It  would  break 
his  noble  heart.  I  hope  you  quite  understand, 
Hartmann,  that  I  keep  quiet  only  through  fear  of 
wounding  him  and  not  with  any  fear  that  he 
might  bequeath  the  business  elsewhere." 

u  Quite,"  returned  Hartmann  drily.  "  That's 
why  I  keep  my  mouth  shut  when  he  holds  you  up 
to  me  as  a  paragon  of  zeal  and  industry  and 
asks  me  why  I  don't  pattern  myself  after  you. 
But,  for  all  that,  you're  taking  chances  when  you 
talk  to  me  about  him  as  you  do." 

"  I'm  not,"  contradicted  Frederik.  "  I  may 
not  know  botany.  But  I  know  men.  You  love 
me  about  as  much  as  you  love  smallpox.  But 
you  belong  to  the  breed  that  doesn't  tell  tales. 
Besides,  I've  got  to  speak  the  truth  to  some  one, 


22        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

once  in  a  while,  if  I  don't  want  to  explode.  You're 
a  splendid  safety  valve,  Hartmann." 

The  secretary  bent  over  his  notes.  His  fore 
head  veins  swelled,  and  his  face  darkened.  But 
he  gave  no  overt  sign  of  offence.  Frederik, 
watching  keenly,  seemed  disappointed. 

"  In  New  York,"  he  pursued  with  a  sigh, 
"  they're  just  about  thinking  of  waking  up.  And 
look  at  the  time  I'm  routed  out  of  bed!  Say, 
Hartmann,  I  wish  you  would  give  Oom  Peter  a 
hint  to  oil  his  shoes.  Every  morning  he  wakes 
me  up  at  five  o'clock,  creaking  down  the  stairs. 
It's  a  sort  of  pedal  alarm  clock.  Creak  1  Creak ! 
Creak ! — Ach,  Gottf  Even  yet  I  can  hardly  keep 
one  eye  open.  If  ever  it  pleases  Providence  to 
give  me  my  heritage,  the  first  thing  I'll  do  will 
be  to  sleep  till  noon.  And  then  to  go  to  sleep 
again." 

He  stared  moodily  out  of  the  window  into  the 
glowing,  flower-starred  June  world. 

"  How  I  loathe  this  pokey,  dead  old  village !  " 
he  complained.  "  And  what  wouldn't  I  give  to 
be  back  with  the  old  Leyden  crowd  for  one  little 
night!" 

He  lurched  over  to  the  piano,  sat  carelessly, 
sidewise,  on  its  stool,  and,  thrumming  at  the  key- 


THE  HEIR  23 

board,  fell  to  humming  in  a  slurring,  reminiscent 
fashion,  the  old  Leyden  University  chorus: 

"  Ach,  daar  koonet ye  amuseeren!  lo  vivat — lo  vivat 
Nostorum  sanitas,  hoc  estamoris  forculum, 
Dolores  est  anti  gotum—Io  vivat— lo  vivat 
Nostorum  sanitas —  / 

"  Say,  Hartmann,"  he  broke  off  from  his  jumble 
of  Dutch  and  Hollandised  Latin,  "  the  old  man 
is  aging.  He's  aging  fast." 

"Who?"  asked  Hartmann  absently,  glancing 
up  from  his  work.  "Oh,  your  uncle?  Yes,  he 
is  mellowing.  He  is  changing  foliage  with  the 
years." 

"  Changing  foliage?  Not  he.  He  changes 
nothing.  What  was  good  enough  forty  years  ago 
seems  to  him  quite  good  enough  to-day.  He's 
as  old-fashioned  as  his  hats.  And  they're  the 
oldest  things  since  Noah's  time.  He's  just  as  old- 
fashioned  in  his  financial  ways.  In  my  opinion, 
for  instance,  this  would  be  a  capital  time  to  sell 
out  the  business.  But  he " 

"  Sell  out?  "  echoed  Hartmann  in  genuine  hor 
ror.  "  Sell  out  a  business  that's  been  in  his  family 
for — why,  man,  he'd  as  soon  sell  his  soul.  This 
business  is  his  religion." 

"  Yes,  and  that's  why  it  is  so  flourishing  in 
spite  of  his  back-date  customs.  It's  at  the  very 


24         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

acme  of  its  prosperity  now.  Why,  the  plant  must 
be  worth  an  easy  half  million.  Yes,  and  more. 
Lord,  but  it  would  sell  now!  One,  two,  three, — - 
Augenblick!  By  the  way,  speaking  of  selling, — 
what  was  the  last  offer  the  dear  old  gentleman 
turned  down  from  Hicks  of  Rochester?" 

But  Hartmann  did  not  hear  the  question.  He 
was  staring  at  Frederik  in  open-mouthed  astonish 
ment. 

"Sell  out?"  he  repeated  dully.  "This  is  a 
new  one — even  from  you.  There  isn't  a  day  your 
uncle  doesn't  tell  me  how  triumphantly  you  are 
going  to  carry  on  the  business  after  he  is  gone. 
He " 

"  Oh,  I  am !  "  sneered  Frederik.  "  I  am.  Of 
course  I  am.  How  can  you  doubt  it.  Wait  and 
see.  It's  a  big  name — '  Peter  Grimm.'  And  the 
old  gentleman  knows  his  business.  He  assuredly 
knows  his  business." 

"  I  don't  mind  being  the  repository  of  your 
confidences  about  hating  work,"  burst  out  Hart 
mann,  "  any  more  than  I  mind  listening  to  the 
mewing  of  a  sick  cat.  But  when  you  strike  this 
new  vein,  you'll  have  to  choose  another  audience. 
I'm  afraid  I'd  be  likely  to  take  sudden  charge  of 
the  meeting  and  break  the  talented  orator's  neck." 


THE  HEIR  25 

He  gathered  up  some  of  his  papers  and  stamped 
out  Frederik  looked  after  him  uncertainly,  took 
a  step  toward  the  door  through  which  the  secretary 
had  just  vanished,  then  thought  better  of  the  idea, 
laughed  shortly,  and  drew  out  a  cigarette.  But  a 
creaking  of  heavy  shoes  on  the  walk  outside  led 
him  to  slip  the  cigarette  back  into  its  case,  and 
to  bend  interestedly  over  the  pile  of  office  mail 
Hartmann  had  opened. 

If  Kathrien  had  typified  all  that  was  dainty  and 
alluring  in  the  room's  Dutch  art,  the  man  who 
now  stamped  in  from  the  front  vestibule,  assuredly 
was  typical  of  all  old  Holland's  solidity.  Stocky, 
of  medium  height,  he  was  clad  more  as  though 
he  had  copied  the  fashions  depicted  in  a  daguerro- 
type  than  those  of  the  twentieth  century.  His 
black  broadcloth  was  of  no  recent  cut.  His  low, 
upright  collar  and  broad  cravat  were  of  stock-like 
aspect,  while  a  high  hat  such  as  he  wore  has  cer 
tainly  appeared  in  no  show  window  since  1870. 

Withal,  there  was  nothing  ludicrous  or  even 
incongruous  about  the  costume.  It  belonged  with 
the  wearer.  And  while  on  another  man  it  would 
have  been  absurd,  on  him  it  seemed  the  only  log 
ical  apparel. 

Peter  Grimm  halted  in  the  vestibule,  laboriously 


26        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

removed  his  rubbers,  and  dropped  his  heavy  ash 
stick  into  its  place  on  the  rack.  Then  he  care 
fully  lifted  the  antique  hat  from  his  head,  de 
posited  it  on  a  peg,  and  came  forward  into  the 
room.  The  face,  revealed  as  he  left  the  vesti 
bule's  gloom  for  the  bright  sunlight,  was  at  first 
glance  hard,  deeply  lined,  and  stubborn;  the  effect 
accented  by  a  set  mouth,  the  little  truculently  alert 
eyes  under  bushy  brows,  and  the  slightly  uptilted 
nose. 

A  second  look,  however,  would  have  revealed, 
to  any  one  who  could  read  faces,  a  lovable  and 
almost  tender  light  behind  the  eye's  sharp  twinkle 
and  a  kindly,  humorous  twist  to  the  stubborn 
mouth.  Hot  temper,  the  physiognomist  would 
have  read,  and  obstinacy.  But  there  the  catalogue 
of  faults  would  have  ended  abruptly.  The  rest 
was  warm  heart,  trustfulness,  eager  sympathy, — 
an  almost  child-like  friendliness  toward  the  world 
at  large  that  forever  battled  for  mastery  with 
native  Dutch  shrewdness. 

There  was  far  more  kindness  than  shrewdness 
in  the  square  old  face  just  now,  as  Grimm  noted 
his  nephew's  presence  and  his  deep  absorption  in 
the  contents  of  the  mail.  Frederik  looked  up  as 
Grimm  came  forward. 


THE  HEIR  27 

"  Good-morning,  Oom  Peter,"  said  he. 

"  Good-morning,  Fritzy,"  returned  Grimm. 
"  Hard  at  work,  I  see." 

"  Not  so  hard  but  that  you  were  ahead  of  me. 
I  felt  unpardonably  lazy  when  I  heard  you  come 
downstairs  at  five." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  woke  you.  Youngsters  need  their 
sleep.  We  old  fellows  have  done  about  all  the 
dozing  we  need  to  do;  and  we  are  coming  so 
close  to  our  Long  Sleep  that  God  gives  us  extra 
wakefulness  for  the  little  time  left;  so  we  may  see 
as  much  as  possible  of  this  glorious  old  world  of 
His." 

"  I  ran  over  from  the  office " 

"  Oh,  I  know  why  you  ran  over,  Fritzy.  A 
word  with  Kathrien — yes?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  try  to  forget  everything  but  work 
during  business  hours.  I  came  to  look  for  you. 
I've  a  suggestion " 

"Yes?" 

Grimm's  face  lighted  with  the  rare  smile  that 
played  over  its  harsh  outlines  like  sunshine.  Each 
proof  of  his  nephew's  interest  in  the  work  was 
as  tonic  to  him. 

"  I  came  over,"  went  on  Frederik,  by  hard 
mental  calisthenics  creating  an  impromptu  sugges- 


28         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

tion,  "  to  propose  that  we  insert  a  full-page 
cut  of  your  new  tulip  in  our  midsummer  floral 
almanac." 

"  H'— m  !  "  muttered  Grimm  doubtfully.  "  I 
don't  see  why  we " 

"  Oh,  sir,  the  public's  expecting  it." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"  Why,"  now  quite  at  home  with  his  newly 
evolved  notion,  "  you've  no  idea  the  stir  the 
tulip  has  made.  We  get  letters  from  every 
where " 

"  It  didn't  seem  to  me  anything  so  extraordi 
nary,"  said  Grimm  modestly,  albeit  hugely  grati 
fied.  "  I'll  think  over  the  plan.  What  have  you 
been  doing  all  day?  " 

Frederik  glanced  at  the  clock.  It  registered 
three  minutes  before  nine. 

"  Oh,  I've  had  a  busy  morning,"  he  answered. 
"  In  the  packing  house.  Lots  of  orders  to  attend 
to.  It's  never  safe  to  trust  the  more  important 
ones  to  subordinates." 

"  That's  right,"  approved  Grimm.  "  Fritzy,  it 
does  me  good,  all  through,  to  see  you  taking  hold 
of  the  business  the  way  you're  doing." 

Further  praise  was  cut  short  by  old  Marta,  the 
housekeeper,  who  bustled  in  to  attend  to  her  reg- 


THE  HEIR  29 

ular  nine  o'clock  duty  of  winding  the  chain- 
weighted  Dutch  clock. 

As  she  drew  up  the  weights  with  a  grate  and  a 
whirr  that  made  audible  conversation  quite  out 
of  the  question,  she  formed  a  study,  in  clothes  and 
visage,  that  might  have  stepped  direct  from  a 
Franz  Hals  canvas. 

There  was  nothing  American  or  modern  about 
the  old  woman.  Nothing  about  her  save  her  face 
had  changed  since  the  day,  sixty  years  back,  when 
an  earlier  Grimm,  returning  from  a  visit  from  the 
Fatherland,  had  brought  her  to  Grimm  Manor  as 
maid  for  his  young  American  wife.  Her  task 
accomplished,  Marta  turned  dutifully  to  courtesy 
to  her  master. 

"  Huge  moroche,  Mynheer  Grimm"  she  saluted 
him.  "  Komt  ujuist  eut  dl  teumf  " 

"  Ja"  replied  Peter,  dropping  into  the  tongue 
of  his  fathers,  yet  with  an  odd  twinkle  in  his  little 
eyes.  "  En  ik  bin  hongerig. — Taking  her  morn 
ing  exercise,"  he  added,  noting  the  performance 
with  the  clock  weights. 

"  You  are  always  making  fun  of  me!  "  sniffed 
Marta,  trying  not  to  grin  as  she  swept  indignantly 
out  of  the  room. 

In  her  departure  she  nearly  collided  with  Hart- 


30        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

mann,  who  was  entering  from  the  offices.  Seating 
himself  at  the  desk,  dictation  pad  in  hand,  Hart- 
mann  asked: 

"  Are  you  ready  for  me,  sir?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Grimm. — "  No,  I'm  not.  But 
I  will  be  in  a  minute.  There's  something  I'd  for 
gotten.  Wait " 

Cupping  his  hands  about  his  mouth,  Grimm 
wheeled  to  face  the  gallery  and  shouted  a  curiously 
high-pitched  dissyllable : 

"Ou—hoof" 

And,  as  though  a  sweeter,  more  silvery  echo  of 
the  rough  old  voice,  came  from  one  of  the  gallery 
rooms  an  answering  hail.  Kathrien  herself  fol 
lowed  close  upon  her  reply  to  the  familiar  signal 
call. 

"Oh,  Oom  Peter!"  she  exclaimed,  running 
lightly  down  the  stairs  and  throwing  her  arms 
about  his  neck.  "  Good-morning.  How  careless 
I  was  not  to  come  sooner  and  make  your  coffee. 
I  didn't  know  you  were  in  yet.  You  must  be  half 
starved." 

She  started  for  the  dining-room.  But  Grimm's 
arm  was  about  her  waist,  detaining  her. 

"  This  is  the  very  busiest  little  woman  you  ever 
saw,  Frederik,"  he  announced.  "  She  is  forever 


THE  HEIR  31 

thinking  of  things  to  do  for  me.  And  I'm  never 
remembering  to  do  anything  for  her." 

"  Shame!  "  cried  Kathrien,  "  you  do  everything 
in  this  big  world  for  me,  Oom  Peter,  and  you  know 
it.  I've  got  everything  any  girl's  heart  could  ask." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  haven't  though,"  sagely  contra 
dicted  Grimm.  "  Before  you  say  that,  wait  till 
I  give  you  some  fine  young  chap  for  a  husband. 
Hey,  Frederik?" 

She  drew  away  from  his  embrace  with  gentle 
impatience. 

"Don't,  Oom  Peter,"  she  begged.  "You're 
always  talking  about  weddings  lately.  I  don't 
know  what's  come  over  you." 

"  It's  nesting  time,"  Grimm  defended  himself. 
"  Weddings  are  in  the  air.  And  then,  I  keep 
thinking  of  all  the  linen  packed  in  my  grand 
mother's  chest  upstairs.  We  must  use  it  again 
some  day.  There,  there,  little  girl!  You  shan't 
be  teased  any  more.  Only,  I'll  leave  it  to  you, 
Fritzy,  if  she  doesn't  deserve  a  grand  husband, — 
this  little  girl  of  mine.  If  for  no  other  reason, 
to  pay  for  all  she's  done  for  me." 

"  Done  for  you  ?  "  laughed  Kathrien.  "  Truly, 
I  was  forgetting  that.  I  do  you  the  great  favour 
of  letting  you  do  everything  for  me." 


32         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Nonsense !  Who  lays  out  my  linen  and 
brushes  my  clothes  and  fixes  wonderful  little 
dishes  for  me,  and  puts  my  slippers  and  dressing 
gown  in  front  of  the  fire  on  cold  nights,  and  puts 
flowers  on  my  desk  every  day?  And,  best  of  all, 
Kindchen,  who  floods  this  old  house  of  mine  with 
the  glory  of  Youth?" 

"Youth?"  she  mocked  with  the  true  scorn  of 
the  young  for  their  supreme  gift.  "  Youth  can't 
do  very  much.  What  does  it  amount  to  ?  " 

"  Nothing  much,"  gravely  answered  her  uncle. 
'  Youth,  as  you  say,  is  not  anything  worth  men 
tioning.  It  is  only  the  most  priceless  and  most 
perishable  treasure  in  God's  storehouse.  It  is 
only  the  thing  that  means  Beauty  and  Strength 
and  Hope.  It  is  the  thing  we  all  despise  as  long 
as  we  have  it  and  would  give  our  souls  to  get 
back  as  soon  as  we  have  lost  it.  No,  as  you  say, 
Youth  doesn't  amount  to  much.  It  is  only  the 
nearest  approach  to  Immortality  that  mortals  have 
ever  known.  Why,  where  should  I  be  now, — a 
grouchy  old  bachelor  like  me — without  Youth  in 
my  house?  Why,  Frederik,  this  girl  has  made 
me  feel  kindlier  toward  all  other  women." 

"Oh,  I  have,  have  I?"  demanded  Kathrien, 
"  that's  more  than  I  bargained  for." 


THE  HEIR  33 

"  Don't  flatter  yourself,"  he  joked.  "  It's  only 
the  way  one  feels  about  a  pet.  One  likes  all  the 
rest  of  the  breed." 

"  That's  true,"  broke  in  Hartmann,  throwing 
himself  into  the  conversation  on  impulse.  "  It's 
so.  A  man  studies  one  girl  and  then  presently 
he  begins  to  notice  the  same  little  traits  in  them 
all.  It  makes  one  feel  differently  toward  the  rest 
of  them." 

He  glanced  shamefacedly  back  at  his  dictation 
pad  as  the  others  turned  and  stared  at  him  in 
astonishment.  But  not  before  he  had  noted  the 
shy  smile  that  crept  over  Kathrien's  face  or  the 
unpleasant  glint  in  Frederik's  pale  eyes. 

Hartmann  so  seldom  took  part  in  general  con 
versation  and  was  so  reticent  concerning  every 
phase  of  sentiment,  that  Grimm  was  for  the  mo 
ment  almost  as  astounded  as  though  one  of  his 
own  bulbs  had  burst  into  speech. 

"  An  expert  opinion,"  commented  Frederik 
sneeringly.  "  And  from  a  confirmed  bachelor 
like  James !  " 

"A  confirmed  bachelor?"  Grimm  innocently 
caught  up  the  slur.  "What  a  life!  I  know. 
I  have  been  one  ever  since  I  can  remember. 
When  a  bachelor  wants  to  order  a  three-rib  stand- 


34        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

ing  roast,  who  is  to  eat  it?  Why,  I  never  had 
the  right  sort  of  a  roast  on  my  table  until  Katje 
came  into  the  family.  And  now  that  you're  here 
too,  Fritzy,  the  roasts  get  bigger.  But  not  big 
enough,  even  yet.  Oh,  we  must  find  the  hus 
band  for " 

"Oom  Peter!"  protested  Kathrien.  "You 
promised  you  wouldn't  tease " 

"  Tease?  "  repeated  Grimm,  as  though  he  heard 
the  word  for  the  first  time.  "  Why,  how  could 
you  have  imagined  such  a  thing,  child?  I  was 
only  telling  Frederik  about  the  sort  of  roasts  I 
like  on  my  table.  And  speaking  of  tables, 
Fritzy,  I  like  a  nice  long  table  with  plenty  of 
young  people  at  it.  And  myself  at  the  head, 
carving  and  carving,  and  seeing  the  plates  passed 
round  and  round  and  round; — getting  them  back 
and  back  and  back — There,  there,  Katje!  They 
shan't  tease  you.  We'll  keep  the  table  just  as  it  is. 
For  you  and  Fritz  and  me.  A  nice  little  circle. 
All  in  the  family." 

The  telephone  bell  set  up  a  purring.  Hart- 
mann  picked  up  the  receiver. 

"Hello,"  he  called.  "Yes,  this  is  Mr. 
Grimm's  house. —  Yes. —  Wait  one  moment, 
please." 


THE  HEIR  35 

He  put  his  palm  over  the  transmitter  and 
turned  to  Grimm. 

"  It's  Hicks  again,  sir,"  he  reported.  "  He 
wants  to  talk  more  with  you  about  buying  the 
business." 

"Buying  the  business,  hey?"  snorted  Grimm 
in  sudden  rage.  "  No  !  No !  I've  told  him  ten 
million  times  it's  not  on  the  market  and  never 
will  be.  Tell  him  so  again." 

"  Mr.  Grimm  says,"  called  Hartmann  into  the 
transmitter,  "  that  the  business  is  not  for  sale. 
He  says — what? — Wait  a  minute.  Mr.  Grimm, 
he  insists  on  speaking  to  you  personally." 

"He  does,  hey?"  growled  Peter,  advancing 
upon  the  telephone  as  though  upon  an  enemy  that 
must  be  crushed  at  a  blow. 

"Hello!"  he  roared  wrathfully  into  the  in 
strument.  "  Hello  ?  —  What  ?  —  Why,  my  old 
friend,  how  are  you? — And  how  are  your  plum 
trees  doing?  Mine,  too.  Well,  we  can  only 
pray  and  use  Bordeaux  Mixture. — What?" 

He  paused  to  listen.  Then  he  went  on  as  if 
to  humour  a  cross  child. 

"  No,  no, — it's  nonsense.  Why,  this  business 
has  been  in  the  Grimm  family  for  over  a  hundred 
years.  Why  should  I  sell?  I'm  going  to  arrange 


36        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

for  it  to  stay  in  the  family  a  hundred  years  longer. 
— -Hey?  What's  that? — No,  no.  Of  course  not. 
Of  course  I  don't  propose  to  live  a  hundred  years 
longer.  But  I  propose  that  my  plans  shall.  How 
can  I  make  certain?  Never  mind  how.  I'm  go 
ing  to  arrange  all  that.  Yes,  I  know  I'm  a  bache 
lor.  You  don't  need  to  spend  good  money  on 
long  distance  phoning,  to  remind  me  of  that.  Oh 
— good-bye !  " 

Grimm  turned  away  from  the  table  with  a 
growl,  to  confront  Kathrien. 

"Why,  girl!  "  he  exclaimed,  in  quick  concern. 
"  You  look  as  if  you  are  going  to  cry.  What  is 
it?  Tell  Oom  Peter!" 


CHAPTER  III 

PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN 

"THAT  man!  "  panted  Kathrien.  "He  actually 
wants  to  buy  our  home — our  gardens!  Oh!" 
slipping  for  a  moment  back  into  the  Dutch  that 
was  ever  nearer  to  her  heart  than  English,  "  Stel 
je  zoon  brutali  tat!  " 

"Don't  you  worry!"  consoled  Peter.  "He 
won't  get  a  stick  or  a  stone  of  ours.  Wouldn't 
you  think  that  girl  had  been  born  a  Grimm,  Fritzy  ? 
She's  got  the  true  spirit.  No,  no,  dear.  Of 
course  we  won't  sell.  Never.  Never.  Never. 
Hey,  Fritz?" 

"Certainly  not!"  declared  Frederik.  "The 
idea  is  preposterous." 

"  Fritzy !  "  exclaimed  Grimm.  "  Speaking  of 
ideas,  I've  got  one,  too.  We'll  print  the  Grimm 
history  in  our  new  Midsummer  Almanac.  That's 
better  than  a  full-page  cut  of  any  tulip  that  ever 
sprouted.  Katie,  go  get  the  Staaten  Bible  and 
read  it  aloud  to  us.  We  can  tell,  then,  how  it 
will  strike  the  public." 

The  girl  went  to  the  side  table  where  lay  the 

37 


38         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

great  Bible,  drew  a  chair  up  to  it,  seated  herself, 
turned  over  the  leaves  until  she  found  what  she 
sought,  then  began  to  read  in  a  manner  that  argued 
many  previous  renditions  of  the  quaint  old  phrase 
ology. 

"  In  the  spring  of  1709  there  settled  on  Quassic 
Creek,  New  York  Colony,  Johann  Grimm,  aged 
twenty-two — husbandman  and  vinedresser.  Also, 
Johanna,  his  wife.  To  him  Queen  Anne  furnished 
one  square,  one  rule,  one  compass,  two  whipping 
saws,  and  several  small  pieces " 

"  You  left  out  '  two  augers,' '  prompted 
Grimm. 

"  Yes,  '  and  two  augers.'  To  him  was  born  a 
son  and " 

"  See?  "  cried  Grimm.  "  That  was  the  founda 
tion  of  our  family  and  our  business  here.  And 
here  we  are,  still.  After  seven  generations. 
We'll  print  it.  Hey,  Fritzy?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  approved  Frederik,  stifling  a 
yawn  with  an  access  of  filial  enthusiasm.  "  By  all 
means,  we'll  print  it." 

"  And,  Fritzy,"  continued  Grimm,  with  heavy 
significance,  "  we're  relying  on  you  for  the  next 
line  in  the  book." 

Frederik    glanced    around    him.     Hartmann, 


PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  39 

during  the  reading,  had  gone  from  the  room  to 
get  some  papers  he  had  left  at  the  office.  But 
Kathrien  still  lingered,  restoring  the  Bible  to  its 
wonted  place. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  Oom  Peter,"  said  Frederik, 
lowering  his  voice  so  as  not  to  reach  the  girl's 
ears,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  a  private 
matter  when  you  can  spare  me  a  moment.  When 
I  come  back  from  the  packing  house  will  be  time 
enough.  I  just  want  to  give  a  glance  to  those 
last  shipments." 

"  All  right,  lad,"  agreed  Grimm.     "  Any  time." 

He  looked  fondly  after  the  dapper  figure. 

"  Isn't  he  a  splendid,  handsome,  hustling  young 
chap,  Katje?"  he  demanded.  "If  only  his 
mother  had  lived  to  see  him  now,  wouldn't  she 
have  been  proud  of  him?  And  what  a  complete 
little  family  we  three  make !  " 

"  We  three?  "  hesitated  the  girl. 

"  Surely.  That's  all  there  are  of  us — at  pres 
ent, — isn't  it?  I  don't  think  I  have  made  a  mis 
count." 

"You  don't  count  in  James!" 

"  James?  "  he  queried  sharply.  "  Why  should 
I?" 

"  Why  shouldn't  you  ?  "  she  retorted  eagerly. 


40        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Oom  Peter,  if  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so,  I 
think  you're  just  a  little  unfair  to  James.  He 
used  to  have  dinner  with  us  nearly  every  day. 
Can't  you  make  him  a  little  more  at  home — more 
like  one  of  the  family?" 

"Why,  you  good,  unselfish  little  girl!"  ap 
plauded  Grimm.  "  You  think  of  everybody. 
James  is " 

Hartmann  came  in  with  several  newly  typed 
letters  to  be  signed,  and  Grimm  turned  to  meet 
him  with  something  akin  to  cordiality. 

"  James,"  said  he,  "  will  you  have  dinner  with 
us  to-day?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  answered  Hartmann,  in  pleased 
surprise.  "  Certainly.  Thank  you  very  much. 
Will  you  glance  over  these  and  sign  them?"  he 
added,  wondering  at  the  grateful  smile  Kathrien 
flashed  at  Peter  as  she  passed  into  the  dining-room 
and  left  the  two  men  alone  together. 

Grimm,  too,  wondered  a  little  at  the  warmth  of 
the  girl's  smile. 

"  She  has  bloomed  out  lately  like  a  rose,"  he 
mused  as  he  looked  over  the  letters  the  secretary 
proffered  him. 

"Yes,  sir!  "  involuntarily  agreed  Hartmann. 

"So  you've  noticed  it,  too?" 


PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  41 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Hartmann  stiffly  as  he  re 
covered  his  self-control. 

"  Ach!  "  murmured  Grimm,  as  he  signed  letter 
after  letter  and  passed  them  over  to  Hartmann  for 
sealing.  "  What  a  grip  she  has  taken  on  my 
heart!  A  good  girl,  James.  A  good  little  girl. 
And  I've  sheltered  her,  ever  since  she  came  to  me, 
as  I  shelter  my  violets  from  the  cold.  That's  as 
it  should  be,  hey?  " 

"  Y-e-s, — in  a  way." 

"What's  that?"  bristled  Grimm,  looking  up 
at  the  unexpected  answer  to  the  question  that  had 
seemed  to  him  to  require  none.  "  What  do  you 
mean?  Oh,  speak  out,  manl"  as  the  secretary 
hesitated.  "  Never  be  afraid  to  express  an  honest 
opinion." 

"  I  mean  just  this.  No  one  can  shape  any  one 
else's  life.  All  people  should  be  made  to  under 
stand  that  they  are — free." 

"Free?  Nonsense!  Katje's  free.  Free  as 
air.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  a  girl  should  be 
more  free  than  she  is?  We  must  think  for  young 
people  who  can't  think  for  themselves.  And  no 
girl  can." 

"  But  I  believe " 

"  Bah  1     Who  cares  what  you  believe.     James, 


42         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

I'm  sometimes  afraid  you're  just  a  little  bit  set 
in  your  ways; — almost  obstinate." 

"  But  in  this,"  stoutly  maintained  Hartmann, 
"  I  know  I'm  right.  We  can't  think  for  other 
people  any  more  than  we  can  eat  or  sleep  for 
them.  Every  happy  creature  is  bound,  by  na 
ture,  to  lead  its  own  life.  And,  first  of  all,  it 
must  be  free!  " 

"  James,"  asked  Grimm  in  amused  contempt, 
"  where  on  earth  do  you  get  these  wild  ideas?  " 

"  By  reading  what  modern  thinkers  write, 
sir." 

"  H' — m !  I  thought  so.  Change  your  men 
tal  diet.  There's  a  set  of  Jost  Vanden  Vandell 
over  on  the  shelves.  Read  it.  Cultivate  senti 
ment." 

Hartmann  shrugged  his  big  shoulders  and  went 
on  sealing  and  stamping  letters.  But  Grimm 
would  not  let  this  topic  drop  so  easily. 

"  Free!  "  he  scoffed.  "  Maybe  you've  thought 
you  noticed  Katje  was  not  happy?" 

"  No,  sir.     I  can't  honestly  say  I  have." 

"I  should  think  not!"  chimed  in  Peter. 
"  These  are  the  happiest  hours  of  her  whole  life. 
Don't  I  know  ?  Can't  I  tell  ?  Don't  I  know  her 
and  love  her  better  than  any  one  else  does  ?  She's 


PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  43 

happy.  Beautifully  happy.  And  why  shouldn't 
she  be  ?  She's  young.  She's  in  love.  She's  soon 
to  be  married.  What  girl  wouldn't  be  happy?  " 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Peter  was  reading 
over  the  last  letter  of  the  budget.  Hartmann  was 
staring  at  him  aghast. 

"  Soon  to  be  married?  "  breathed  the  secretary 
when  he  could  steady  his  voice.  "  Then — then  it's 
all  settled,  sir?" 

"  No,"  replied  Peter.  "  But  it  soon  will  be. 
I'm  going  to  settle  it.  Any  one  can  see  how  she 
feels  toward  Frederik." 

"  But,"  faltered  Hartmann  lamely,  "  isn't  she 
very — very  young  to  be  married?  " 

"  Not  when  she  marries  into  the  family.  Not 
when  I'm  here  to  watch  over  her.  You  see — Sit 
down  again,  James.  I  like  to  talk  about  it  to 
some  one  who  is  interested.  And  you  are  in 
terested,  aren't  you?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  the  secretary  managed  to  say. 

"  Very  good.  Now,  in  following  out  my 
plans " 

"  Oom  Peter,"  called  Kathrien  from  the  dining- 
room,  "  I  have  your  coffee  all  ready.  Shall  I 
bring  it  in?  " 

"  By  and  by,  dear.     By  and  by.     I  am  busy 


44        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

now.  I'll  let  you  know.  Shut  the  door,  won't 
you?" 

She  obeyed.  And  to  the  hungrily  watching 
secretary  it  seemed  as  if  the  door  were  closing,  in 
his  very  face,  upon  the  gates  of  Paradise. 

"  In  following  my  plans,"  Grimm  was  repeat 
ing,  "  I've  had  to  be  pretty  shrewd  and  secretive. 
For  it  wouldn't  do  to  let  either  of  them  suspect 
too  soon.  And  I  flatter  myself  they  didn't. 
Here's  my  notion.  I  made  up  in  my  mind  to  keep 
Katje  in  the  family.  I'm  a  rich  man.  And  so 
I've  had  to  guard  against  young  fellows  who 
would  dangle  around  after  a  girl  for  her  money. 
I've  guarded  that  point  rather  well.  The  whole 
town,  for  instance,  understands  that  Katje  hasn't 
a  penny.  Doesn't  it?" 

"  I  believe  so." 

"  I've  made  a  number  of  wills.  But  I've  de 
stroyed  them  all,  one  after  another.  And  any 
time  any  of  her  boy  friends  called,  I've — well,  I've 
had  business  that  kept  me  here  in  the  room.  When 
she  goes  to  a  dance,  how  does  she  go?  With 
me.  When  she  goes  to  the  theatre,  how  does 
she  go?  With  me.  When  she  has  had  candy 
or  any  other  present,  who  gave  it  to  her?  /  did. 
And  so  it  has  been  from  the  first.  Every  pleasure 


PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  45 

< — she's  had  'em  all.  And  she  had  'em  all  from 
me.  What's  the  result?  She's  perfectly  happy 
and " 

"  But,"  argued  Hartmann,  "  did  you  want  her 
to  be  happy  simply  because  you  were  happy? 
Didn't  you  want  her  to  be  happy  because 
she ?" 

"  So  long  as  she  is  happy,"  retorted  Grimm, 
"  why  should  I  care  what  does  it?  " 

"  If  she's  happy,"  repeated  the  secretary. 

"If  she's  happy?"  mocked  Grimm,  his  Dutch 
temper  beginning  to  smoulder  behind  his  gentle, 
obstinate  little  eyes.  "If?  What  do  you  mean  ? 
That's  the  second  time  you've — Why  do  you  harp 
on  that  iff" 

His  voice  rose  threateningly.  The  silver  grey 
mane  on  his  head  bristled  like  a  boar's.  Hart 
mann  rose  and  started  quietly  for  the  door. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  shouted  Grimm. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  the  secretary,  continu 
ing  his  doorward  progress. 

"  Come  back  here !  "  ordered  Grimm  fiercely. 
"  Come  back  here,  I  say!  Sit  down!  So!  Now, 
tell  me  what  you  mean !  What  do  you  know — or 
think  you  know?  " 

"  Mr.  Grimm,"  answered  Hartmann,  cornered 


46         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

and  desperate,  "  you  are  the  greatest  living  author 
ity  on  tulips.  You  can  perform  miracles  with 
them.  But  you  can't  mate  people  as  you  graft 
tulips.  You  can't  do  it.  More  than  once  I  have 
caught  Miss  Katie  crying.  And  I've " 

"  Pooh !  "  snorted  Grimm.  "  Caught  her  cry 
ing,  have  you?  Of  course.  So  have  I.  What 
does  that  amount  to?  Was  there  ever  a  girl  that 
didn't  cry?  All  women  cry  until  they  have  some 
thing  to  cry  about.  Then  they're  too  busy  living 
to  waste  time  in  such  luxuries  as  tears.  Why, 
time  and  time  again,  I've  asked  her  why  she  was 
crying.  And  always  she'd  answer:  '  For  no 
reason  at  all.  For  nothing.'  And  that  is  the 
answer.  They  love  to  cry.  But  that's  what 
they  all  cry  over; — '  Nothing!  '  " 

Hartmann  did  not  answer.  Grimm's  gust  of 
anger  had  been  blown  away  by  the  wind  of  his 
own  words.  He  went  on  in  a  half-amused  remi 
niscent  tone : 

"  James,  did  I  ever  tell  you  how  I  happened 
to  get  Katje?  She  was  prescribed  for  me  by 
Dr.  McPherson." 

"Prescribed?" 

"  Yes,  just  that.  As  an  antidote  for  getting  to 
be  a  fussy  old  bachelor  with  queer  notions  in  my 


PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  47 

head.  And  the  cure  worked  to  perfection.  When 
my  old  friend  Staats  died " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I've  often  heard " 

But  Peter  Grimm  was  no  more  to  be  balked  in 
the  repetition  of  his  favourite  narrative  merely 
because  his  hearer  chanced  to  be  familiar  with  its 
every  detail,  than  he  would  have  been  balked  in 
hearing  the  Grimm  genealogy  re-read  for  the 
thousandth  time. 

"  When  my  old  friend  Staats  died,"  he  said, 
"  McPherson  brought  Staats's  motherless  baby 
over  here ;  and  he  said :  '  Peter,  this  is  what  you 
need  in  the  house.'  Those  were  his  very  words: 
*  Peter,  this  is  what  you  need  in  the  house.'  And, 
sure  enough,  the  very  first  time  I  carried  her  up 
those  stairs  over  there,  all  my  fine,  cranky,  crotch 
ety  bachelor  notions  flew  out  of  my  head.  I  knew 
then,  in  a  flash,  that  all  my  knowledge  and  all 
my  queer  ideas  of  life  were  just  humbug!  I  had 
missed  the  Child  in  the  House.  Yes," — his  voice 
dropped  with  a  strain  of  soft  regret, — "  I  had 
missed  many  children  in  the  house.  James,  I  was 
born  in  that  little  room  up  there.  The  room  I 
sleep  in.  And  one  day,  please  God,  Katje's  chil 
dren  shall  play  in  the  room  where  I  was  born." 

"  Yes,"  acquiesced  Hartmann  as  Grimm  ceased, 


48         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

— and  the  secretary's  voice  and  words  grated  like 
a  file  on  the  old  man's  tender  mood, — "  it's  a  very 
pretty  picture — if  it  turns  out  at  all  the  way  you 
are  trying  to  paint  it." 

"How  can  it  turn  out  wrong?"  demanded 
Peter,  in  fresh  irritation.  "  What's  the  matter 
with  the  way  I'm  '  painting  the  picture  '  ?  " 

"  From  your  standpoint,  as  I  say,  it's  very 
pretty.  But  it's  more  than  a  mere  question  of 
sentiment.  Her  children  can  play  anywhere." 

"What?  You're  talking  rubbish!  I  pick  out 
a  husband  here — and  her  children  can  play  in 
China  if  they  want  to?  Are  you  crazy?  Pshaw," 
turning  away  in  disgust,  "  I  just  waste  words  in 
opening  my  heart's  dear  secrets  to  a  dolt  like 
you." 

"  Perhaps,"  assented  Hartmann,  quite  un 
ruffled,  as  he  set  to  work  enveloping  some  seed 
catalogues  that  lay  on  the  table.  Grimm  evidently 
was  about  to  pursue  the  flying  foe  with  fresh  in 
vective.  But  Marta  came  in  from  the  kitchen, 
and,  with  her,  Willem.  At  sight  of  the  boy, 
Grimm's  frown  softened  into  a  smile  of  wel 
come. 

"  Come  seg  huge  moroche  tegen,  Mynheer 
Grimm,"  said  Marta,  while  Willem,  walking  over 


49 

to  Peter,  held  out  a  thin  little  hand  in  greeting, 
with  the  salutation: 

"Huge  moroche,  Mynheer  Grimm." 

"  Huge  moroche,  Willem"  replied  Grimm 
kindly,  pressing  the  boy's  hand. 

"  I'm  all  ready  to  take  the  flowers  over  to  the 
rectory,"  announced  Willem,  drifting  into  Eng 
lish. 

"  If  you're  tired  after  going  to  the  station,  Otto 
can  take  them,"  said  Grimm. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  a  bit  tired." 

"And  you're  getting  real  well  again?" 

"  Ja,  Mynheer.  The  doctor  says  I'm  all  right 
now." 

"  That's  good.  Tell  Otto  to  give  you  a  big 
armful  of  flowers  for  the  rectory.  A  big  armful, 
remember." 

Malta's  grandmotherly  gaze  fancied  it  detected 
a  twist  in  the  boy's  neatly  tied  cravat.  So  she 
swooped  down  upon  him  and  bore  him  away  to 
the  window  seat,  where  her  blurring  eyes  would 
have  light  enough  to  readjust  the  tie  to  her  satis 
faction.  Grimm,  with  a  quick  glance  to  make  sure 
they  were  not  in  earshot,  tapped  Hartmann  on  the 
shoulder  and  whispered: 

"  There's  a  nice  result  of  the  *  freedom  '  you 


50        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

said  young  girls  ought  to  have.  Marta's  Anne 
Marie  had  nothing  but  freedom.  She  was  the 
worst  spoiled  child  in  town.  Marta  let  her  come 
and  go  as  she  pleased.  Come  and  go — Heaven 
knows  where.  And  Heaven  knows  where  the 
poor  shamed  girl  is  now.  Every  time  I  look  at 
Willem,"  raising  his  voice  to  normal  pitch  as 
Marta  and  her  grandson  passed  into  the  kitchen, 
"  I  realise  how  right  I've  been  in  the  way  I've 
brought  up  Katje.  H' — m!  Want  me  to  give 
Katje  a  chance  for  more  freedom,  do  you? 
Why " 

"  Mr.  Grimm,"  interrupted  Hartmann,  sud 
denly  getting  to  his  feet  and  facing  his  employer, 
"  I'd  like  to  be  transferred  to  your  Florida  head 
quarters.  At  once,  if  it  is  convenient  to  you.  I 
want  to  work  out  in  the  open  for  a  while." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Grimm  dumfounded. 
"  Florida?  At  this  time  of  the  year?  And  you 
were  so  glad  to  get  back  here  to — Pshaw  I  You've 
just  got  a  cranky  fit  on  you,  lad.  Get  rid  of  it. 
Put  on  your  overalls  and  go  out  and  potter  around 
among  those  beloved  vegetables  of  yours.  Change 
your  ideas,  I  say.  Change  the  whole  lot  of  them. 
They're  all  wrong.  You  don't  know  what  you 
want." 


PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  51 

Hartmann's  lips  were  parted  for  a  retort.  But 
he  closed  them,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  left  the 
room.  Grimm  shook  his  head  as  over  a  problem 
he  could  not  solve  and  did  not  greatly  care  to. 
Then  he  fell  to  sorting  a  box  full  of  bulbs. 

But  in  a  minute  or  two  he  was  interrupted  by 
Frederik. 

"  I  saw  Hartmann  crossing  the  yard,"  said  the 
younger  man,  "  so  I  stepped  over  for  a  lit 
tle  chat  with  you,  if  you've  time  to  listen  to 
me." 

"  I've  always  got  time  to  listen  to  you,  Fritzy," 
replied  Grimm,  still  busy  with  his  bulbs.  "  It'll 
be  a  relief  after  that  pig-headed  James.  Lord, 
how  I  do  hate  an  obstinate  man!  You  said  a 
while  ago  you  wanted  to  see  me  on  a  private 
matter.  What  was  it?  If  it's  that  full-page 
coloured  cut  of  the  new  tulip,  I  may  as  well  tell 
you " 

"  It  isn't.  It's  about  your  pig-headed  friend, 
James." 

"James?     What   about  him?" 

"  Just  this,  Oom  Peter:  I  think  he  is  interested 
in  Kathrien." 

"Who?  James?  Bah!  You're  dreaming. 
[That's  just  like  a  lover.  Thinks  every  one  is  try- 


52         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

ing  to  steal  his  sweetheart.  Why,  James  is  too 
much  wrapped  up  in  his  work  to  care  about  any 
thing  else.  His  work  and  his  crazy  theories  that 
he  gets  out  of  books.  Interested  in  Kathrien? 
Just  to  show  you  how  foolish  you  are  to  think 
that,  he  asked  me  not  five  minutes  ago  to  transfer 
him  to  the  Florida  headquarters.  And,  even  if 
he  weren't  so  absorbed  in  the  business,  he'd  never 
even  presume  to  think  of  Kathrien.  It's  prepos 
terous  !  " 

"Is  it?"  said  Frederik,  quite  unconvinced. 
'  Yet  I've  reason  to  believe  he  has  been  making 
love  to  her." 

There  was  a  quiet  certainty  in  his  nephew's 
voice  that  caught  Grimm's  reluctant  credence. 

"  We'll  find  out  mighty  soon,"  he  declared. 
"  Katje !  " 

"  No,  no !  "  expostulated  Frederik.  "  It  would 
be  better  not  to  bring  her  into  it  or  give  her  the 
idea  that " 

"Katje!" 

"  Yes,  Oom  Peter,"  answered  the  girl,  hurrying 
in  from  the  dining-room  in  response  to  the  bellowed 
summons.  "What's  the  matter?" 

"  Katje,"  began  the  old  man  in  visible  embar 
rassment,  "  has — has  James ?  " 


PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  53 

"What?"  queried  Kathrien,  as  Grimm  paused 
and  broke  into  a  shamefaced  laugh. 

"  Has — has  James  ever  shown  any  special  in 
terest  in  you?  Ever  made  love  to  you,  or ?  " 

"  Oh,  Oom  Peter!  "  expostulated  Kathrien,  red 
dening  to  the  roots  of  her  hair.  "  Whatever  gave 
you  such  an  idea  as  that?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  he  answered  her.  "  It  was 
just  a  bit  of  silly  nonsense.  A  joke.  I  can't  help 
teasing  you.  Because  you  blush  so  prettily.  But 
—but  has  he?" 

"  Why,  of  course  not.  I've  always  known 
James.  Ever  since  I  can  remember.  He's  never 
shown  any  interest  in  me  that  he  ought  not  to, — 
if  that's  what  you  mean.  He's  always  been  very 
respectful;  in  a  perfectly — a  perfectly  friendly 
way." 

She  was  scarlet  and  stammering.  But  Grimm 
apparently  did  not  notice  her  confusion. 

"  Respectful,"  he  repeated  musingly.  "In  a 
perfectly  friendly  way.  Surely  we  couldn't  ask 
for  anything  more  than  that.  Thank  you,  little 
girl.  That's  all  I  wanted  to  know.  Run  along." 

Casting  a  puzzled  look  at  Grimm  and  then  at 
Frederik — who,  since  she  first  entered  the  room 
had  been  seated  near  the  window,  deeply  absorbed 


54        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

in  a  book, — Kathrien  returned  to  her  work  in  the 
other  part  of  the  house. 

Grimm's  kind  eyes  had  never  for  an  instant  left 
her  troubled  face,  nor  had  they  failed  to  note  her 
evident  relief  at  escaping  from  the  room.  As 
the  door  closed  behind  her,  the  kindly  look  faded 
from  the  old  eyes,  leaving  them  hard  and  cold. 
The  firm  jaw  set  more  tightly.  Yet,  as  he  turned 
toward  Frederik,  there  was  no  trace  in  his  tone 
of  anything  but  pleasant  banter. 

"  There,  Fritzy !  "  said  he.  "  You  see  James 
was  only  '  respectful  to  her  in  a  perfectly  friendly 
way.'  I  hope  you  are  quite  satisfied?  " 

"  I  am,"  answered  Frederik.  "  Quite.  In 
fact  I'm  every  bit  as  satisfied  as  you  are,  uncle." 

Grimm  sat  very  still  for  a  moment  or  so,  staring 
blindly  into  space,  his  head  on  his  breast.  Then, 
with  a  sigh,  he  roused  himself.  Reaching  for  the 
telephone  he  called  up  his  office. 

"  Send  Mr.  Hartmann  over  here,"  he  com 
manded. 

He  set  down  the  instrument  and  resumed  his 
blank  stare  into  nothingness.  Frederik  was  once 
more  wholly  engrossed  in  the  book  he  was  not 
reading.  Hartmann  broke  in  upon  the  strained 
silence. 


PETER  GRIMM  HAS  A  PLAN  551 

"  You  sent  for  me,  sir?  "  he  asked,  his  breezy 
bigness  waking  the  still  room  to  life. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Peter  Grimm.  "  James,  it  has 
occurred  to  me — to  ask — it  has  occurred  to  me 
that — James,  please  tell  me  your  reason  for  asking 
a  few  minutes  ago  to  be  transferred  to  Florida?  " 

James  made  no  immediate  reply.  He  seemed 
ransacking  his  mind  for  the  right  words.  Grimm 
eyed  him  closely,  asking  with  sudden  directness: 

"  Was  it  on  account  of  my  little  girl?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Hartmann. 

The  secretary's  confusion  had  fled.  Calm,  self- 
contained,  flinching  not  at  all  from  the  shrewd, 
searching  eyes  that  were  fixed  on  his  own,  he  stood 
awaiting  the  breaking  of  the  storm. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY 

BUT,  to  Hartmann's  surprise,  the  storm  did  not 
break.  Instead,  Peter  Grimm  sat  gazing  at  him 
with  impassive  face, — gazing  long  and  without  a 
word.  And  when  at  last  Grimm  spoke,  the  old 
man's  voice  was  as  emotionless  as  his  face. 

"  You  love  her?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Hartmann,  as  calmly  as 
though  stating  some  fact  in  botany. 

"  H' — m  1  "  rumbled  Grimm,  half  to  himself. 
"Ja  vis!  Ja  vis!" 

Hartmann  still  waited  for  the  storm.  And  still 
it  did  not  come. 

"You  love  her?"  repeated  Grimm.  "Does 
she  know?  " 

"  No.  She  doesn't  know.  She  need  never 
know.  I  had  not  meant  to  say  a  word  to  any 
one." 

Grimm  rose  and  came  toward  him.  The  hard 
face  was  gentle  again.  The  inquisitorial  voice 
was  once  more  kindly. 

"  James,"  said  the  old  man,  "  go  to  the  office 
56 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  57 

and  get  your  money.  Then  start  for  Florida  head 
quarters.  Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,  sir,"  replied  James,  grasping  the 
outstretched  hand.  "  I'm  very  sorry." 

"  I'm  sorry,  too,  James.     Good-bye !  " 

As  Hartmann  left  the  room,  Grimm  turned  to 
Frederik,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  pain. 

"  That  is  settled,  thank  Heaven!"  he  an 
nounced;  but  there  was  no  jubilance  in  his  voice. 
"  I  wish— Hello,  there's  old  McPherson!  " 

Glad  to  divert  his  mind  he  hurried  to  the  front 
door  to  welcome  the  visitor  and  drew  him  into 
the  room  with  friendly  roughness. 

Dr.  McPherson  would  have  borne  the  stamp, 
"  Family  physician  of  the  Old  School,"  even  had 
he  been  found  in  the  ranks  of  the  Matabele  army. 
Big,  shaggy,  bearded,  he  was  of  the  ancient  and 
puissant  type  that,  under  the  tidal  wave  of  "  spe 
cialism  "  is  fast  being  swept  towards  the  shores 
whera  live  the  last  survivors  of  the  Great  Auk,  the 
Dinosaur,  and  the  Spread  Eagle  Orator  tribes. 

"  Good-morning,  Peter,"  hailed  the  doctor,  a 
Scotch  burr  faintly  rasping  his  bluff  voice. 
"  Morning,  Fred.  I  passed  young  Hartmann  at 
the  gate.  He  looks  as  if  he  was  taking  a  pleasure 
trip  to  his  own  funeral.  What  ails  him?" 


58         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

No  one  answered. 

"  He's  about  the  finest  lad  that  ever  I  brought 
into  the  world.  What's  happened  to  make  him 

so ?  Good-morning,  Kathrien,"  he  broke  off, 

as  the  girl,  followed  by  Marta,  came  in  with 
Grimm's  long  delayed  breakfast. 

"  Good-morning,      Doctor,"      she      answered. 

"  Oom  Peter,  you  forgot  to  send  for  this.  So 
j » 

"What's  that?"  roared  McPherson,  sniffing 
the  air  like  a  bull  that  scents  an  enemy.  "  Coffee? 
Why,  damn  it,  Peter,  I  forbade  you  to  touch 
coffee.  It's  rank  poison  to  you.  And  you  know 
it  is.  I  told  you " 

"Wouldn't  you  like  a  cup,  Doctor?"  asked 
Kathrien  innocently. 

«   T >J 

"  Of  course  he'll  take  a  cup,"  interrupted 
Grimm.  "  He'll  damn  it.  But  he'll  drink  it." 

"And  look  here!"  proceeded  McPherson, 
pointing  an  accusing  finger  at  the  breakfast  tray. 
"Waffles!  Actually  waffles!  And  after  I  told 
you " 

"  Yes,  Katje,"  explained  Grimm,  "  he'll  damn 
the  waffles,  too.  But,  if  you  watch  closely,  you'll 
notice  he'll  eat  some.  Sit  down,  Andrew." 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  59 

"  I  tell  you,"  fumed  the  doctor,  "  I  didn't  come 
here  to  encourage  you,  by  my  example,  in  wrecking 
your  system.  I  came  for  a  serious  talk  with  you, 
Peter." 

Kathrien,  at  the  hint,  discreetly  effaced  herself. 
Frederik  followed  her  example. 

"  Well?  well?  "  queried  Peter  in  mock  despair, 
seating  himself  opposite  his  old  crony  and  tyrant. 
"  What  new  horrors  of  diet  have  you  thought  up 
for  my  misery?  Out  with  it.  Let  me  know  the 
worst." 

"  It  isn't  your  body  this  time,  Peter,"  was  the 
troubled  answer.  "  It's  something  that  means 
more.  The  matter's  been  keeping  me  awake  all 
night.  Tell  me: — how  is  every  one  provided  for 
in  this  house?  " 

"Provided  for?"  echoed  Peter  in  bewilder 
ment.  "How  do  you  mean?  Everybody  gets 

enough  to  eat  and  we  are " 

'  Why,  you  don't  understand  me.  You're  a 
wonderful  man  for  making  plans,  Peter.  But 
what  have  you  done?  " 

"Done?" 

"If  you — if  you  were  to  die — say  to-morrow, 
or — or  any  other  time,"  went  on  the  doctor  with 
an  effort  at  carelessness  that  sat  on  his  rough  hon- 


6o         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

esty  as  ill  as  his  Sunday  broadcloth  adorned  his 
rugged  shoulders,  "if  you — die — unexpectedly, — 
how  would  it  be  with  the  rest  of  them  here?  " 

Grimm  set  down  his  coffee  cup  with  slow  pre 
cision.  And  slowly  he  raised  his  eyes  to  McPher- 
son's  worried  gaze. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  with  some 
thing  very  like  awe  in  his  tone.  "  If  I  were  to 
die  to-morrow " 

"  You  won't !  "  declared  McPherson  emphatic 
ally.  "  You  won't.  So  don't  worry.  You're 
good  for  a  long  time  yet.  A  score  of  years,  per 
haps.  You're  all  right,  if  you  take  decent  care  of 
yourself.  Which  you  never  do.  But  we've  all 
got  to  come  to  it,  sooner  or  later.  And  it's  well 
to  make  provision.  For  instance,  what  would 
Kathrien's  position  be  in  this  house,  in  case  you 
were  taken  out  of  it?  Kathrien  is  a  little  'pre 
scription  '  of  mine,  you'll  remember.  And — I 
suppose  your  heart  is  still  set  on  her  marrying 
Frederik,  so  that  what  is  one's  will  be  the  other's. 
'Personally  I've  always  thought  it  was  rather  a  pity 
that  Frederik  wasn't  James  and  James  wasn't 
Frederik." 

"  Eh?  "  cried  Peter.     "  What's  that?  " 

"  It's  none  of  my  business,"  answered  McPher- 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  61 

son.  "  And  it's  all  very  well  as  it  stands — if  she 
wants  Frederik.  But  if  you  want  to  do  anything 
for  her  future  welfare,  take  my  advice,  and  do  it 
now." 

"  You  mean,"  Peter  said  evenly,  between  stiffen 
ing  lips,  "  you  mean  that  I  could — die  ?  " 

"  Every  one  can,"  replied  McPherson  with  ele 
phantine  lightness.  "  And  at  one  time  or  another, 
every  one  does.  It's  a  thing  to  be  prepared 
for." 

"  One  moment,"  urged  Grimm,  the  keen  little 
eyes  piercing  the  other's  badly  woven  cloak  of  in 
difference.  "  You  think  that  I !  " 

"  I  mean  nothing  more  nor  less,  Peter,  than  that 
the  machinery  is  wearing  out.  There's  absolutely 
no  cause  for  apprehension.  Still,  I  thought  I  had 
better  tell  you." 

"  But,"  asked  Grimm  with  a  pathetic  insistence, 
"  if  there's  no  cause  for  apprehension ?  " 

"Listen,  Peter:  when  I  cured  you  of  that  cold 
the  other  day — the  cold  you  got  by  tramping 
around  like  an  idiot  among  the  wet  flower-beds 
without  rubbers — I  made  a  discovery  of — of  some 
thing  I  can't  cure." 

Grimm  studied  his  friend's  unreadable  face  for 
an  instant  with  an  almost  painful  intensity.  Then 


62         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

a  smile  swept  away  the  worry  from  his  own 
visage. 

"  Oh,  Andrew,  you  old  croaking  Scotch  raven," 
he  cried.  "  Your  professional  ways  will  be  the 
death  of  some  one  yet.  But  the  '  some  one  '  won't 
be  Peter  Grimm.  That  sick  bed  manner  is  splen 
did  for  bullying  old  maids  into  taking  their  tonic. 
But  it's  wasted  on  a  grown  man.  No,  no,  An 
drew.  You  can't  make  me  out  an  invalid.  You 
doctors  are  a  sorry  lot.  You  pour  medicines  of 
which  you  know  little  into  systems  of  which  you 
know  nothing.  You  condemn  people  to  death  as 
the  old  Inquisition  would  have  blushed  to.  Why, 
every  day  we  read  in  the  papers  about  some  frisky 
boy  a  hundred  years  old  whom  the  doctors  gave 
up  for  lost  when  he  was  twenty-five.  And,"  the 
forced  gaiety  in  his  voice  merging  into  aggressive 
resolve,  "  I'm  going  to  live  to  see  children  in  this 
old  house  of  mine.  Katje's  babies  creeping  about 
this  very  floor;  sliding  down  those  bannisters  over 
there,  pulling  the  ears  of  Lad,  my  collie." 

"  Good  Lord,  Peter!  That  dog  is  fifteen  years 
old  now!  Argue  yourself  into  miraculous  longev 
ity  if  you  want  to.  But  don't  argue  old  Lad  into 
it.  Do  you  expect  nothing  will  ever  change  in 
your  home?  " 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  63 

"  Perhaps,"  agreed  Peter,  with  unshaken  de 
fiance.  "  But  not  before  I  live  to  see  a  new  line 
of  rosy-faced,  fluffy-haired  little  Grimms." 

McPherson  leaned  back  with  a  sigh  of  discour 
agement.  Then,  with  professional  insight,  he 
noted  for  the  first  time  the  gallant  fight  the  old 
man  opposite  him  was  making  to  keep  up  that 
obstinate  gay  courage  whose  outward  expression 
had  so  irritated  the  doctor.  And,  all  at  once, 
McPherson  ceased  to  become  the  gruff  friend  and 
assumed  the  role  that  Ananias's  physician  probably 
acquired  from  his  famous  patient  and  which,  most 
assuredly,  he  has  handed  down  to  all  his  medical 
successors. 

"  I  see  no  reason,  Peter,"  said  he  with  judicial 
ponderousness,  "  why  you  shouldn't  reach  a  ripe 
old  age.  You're  quite  likely  to  outlive  me  and  a 
host  of  younger  men.  Only,  take  better  care  of 
yourself.  And, — no  matter  how  many  probable 
years  of  life  a  man  has  before  him,  it  does  him 
no  harm  to  set  his  house  in  order.  Think  over 
that  part  of  my  advice  and  forget  the  rest  of 
it." 

"  Forget  the  rest  of  it,"  echoed  Grimm  ab 
sently.  "  The  rest " 

McPherson  hesitated ;  then  as  though  overcome 


64        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

by  a  temptation  too  strong  for  him  to  battle 
against,  he  blurted  out  half-shamefacedly : 

"  Peter — don't  laugh  at  me.  I  want  to  make 
a  strange  compact  with  you.  As  I've  told  you, 
you're  quite  likely  to  outlive  me.  But — will  you 
agree  that  whichever  of  us  happens  to — to  go  first, 
— shall  come  back  and — and  let  the  other  fellow 
know  ?  Let  the  other  fellow  know ;  so  as  to  settle 
the  Great  Question  once  and  for  all?" 

Grimm  stared  at  him  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
set  the  room  ringing  with  a  laugh  of  whose  mock 
ing  heartiness  there  could  be  no  doubt. 

"  Oh,  Andrew !  Andrew !  "  he  cried,  when  he 
could  get  his  breath.  "  Still  riding  your  one 
crazy  hobby!  And  you  so  sane  in  other  ways!  " 

"But  you'll  make  the  compact?"  begged 
McPherson.  "  You're  a  man  of  your  word, " 

"  Make  a  compact  to ?  Oh,  no,  no,  man. 

No!  I'd  be  ashamed  to  have  people  know  I  was 
such  a  fool." 

"  But,"  urged  the  doctor,  "  no  one  else  need 
know  anything  about  it.  It'll  be  just  between  our 
selves." 

"  No,  no,  dear  old  Andrew,"  laughed  Grimm 
indulgently.  "  Positively  no!  I  refuse,  point- 
blank.  I'll  do  you  any  favour  in  reason.  But  I 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  65 

draw  the  line  at  being  dragged  into  any  of  your 
absurd  spook  tests." 

"  You  sneer  at  '  spooks,'  as  you  call  them,"  re 
torted  the  doctor.  "  Most  people  do.  Just  as 
people  scoffed  when  Columbus  told  them  there  was 
an  America.  But  how  many  times  do  you  think 
you  have  been  a  spook,  yourself?" 

"  A  spook?     I  can't  remember  that  I  ever " 

"  Yes,  a  ghost." 

"  A  ghost,"  repeated  Grimm  with  the  utmost 
solemnity  and  wrinkling  his  forehead  as  in  an 
effort  of  memory.  "  I  can't  just  now  recall " 

"That's  right!  Make  fun  of  me!  But  you 
can't  tell  that  man  is  complete — that  he  doesn't 
live  more  than  one  life; — that  the  soul  doesn't  pass 
on  and  on.  Smile  if  you  like.  Wiser  men  than 
yourself  have  believed  it.  Why,  man  alive,  every 
human  being  is  surcharged  with  a  persistent  per 
sonal  energy.  And  that  energy  must  continue  for 
ever." 

"  Oh,  Doctor,  Doctor !  "  exclaimed  Kathrien, 
coming  in  with  a  fresh  supply  of  hot  waffles. 
"  Have  you  started  on  spooks  again?  " 

"  Yes,  Katje,"  sighed  Peter  dolorously. 
"  There  can  be  no  possible  redeeming  doubt 
about  that.  He's  started." 


66         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  And,"  laughed  the  girl,  "  I  wasn't  on  hand 
to  hear  him.  Have  I  missed  very  much  of  it?  " 

"No,"  answered  her  uncle.  "We're  still  in 
the  painful  early  stages  of  the  squabble.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do,  Andrew:  I'll  compromise  with 
you.  Instead  of  making  the  bargain  you  pro 
posed,  I'll  stand  aside  and  let  you  go  ahead  of  me 
into  the  next  world.  Then  you  can  come  back  at 
your  leisure  and  keep  the  spook  compact.  It'll 
be  quite  interesting.  Every  time  a  knock  sounds 
or  a  chair  creaks  or  a  door  bangs  or  Lad  growls 
in  his  sleep,  I'll  strike  an  attitude  and  say :  '  Ssh  1 
There's  Doc!'" 

"  Don't  guy  me,  old  friend,"  urged  McPherson. 
"  I'm  entirely  serious.  I'll  make  the  promise  and 
I  want  you  to  make  it,  too.  Understand,  I'm  no 
so-called  Spiritist.  I'm  just  a  groping  seeker  after 
the  Truth." 

"  That's  what  they  all  say,"  scoffed  Grimm. 
"  Seekers  after  the  truth !  And  madly  eager  to 
believe  everything  they  hear  or  read  except  the 
commonsense  truth.  And  you,  a  level-headed 
Scotchman,  old  enough  to  be  your  own  father, 
actually  gulp  down  such  tomfoolery!  Next  we'll 
have  you  chasing  around  the  streets  at  night,  look 
ing  with  a  dark  lantern  for  the  bogey  man." 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  67 

"  Laugh  at  me  if  you  like.  I  know  I'm  right. 
I  know  the  dead  are  alive.  They're  here.  Right 
here.  They're  all  about  us,  watching  us,  suffer 
ing  with  us,  rejoicing  with  us,  trying  no  doubt  to 
speak  the  warnings  and  encouragements  that  our 
world-deafened  mortal  ears  cannot  hear.  I'm  not 
alone  in  the  theory.  Some  of  the  greatest  scien 
tists — the  wisest  men  of  the  century — are  of  the 
same  opinion." 

"  Dreamers,"  smiled  Grimm  indulgently. 
"  Dreamers  like  yourself." 

"  Dreamers,  eh?  "  The  doctor  caught  him  up 
vehemently.  "Dreamers?  You  can't  call  Sir 
William  Crookes,  the  inventor  of  the  Crookes' 
Tubes,  a  dreamer!  No,  nor  Sir  Oliver  Lodge, 
the  great  biologist;  or  Curie,  who  discovered  ra 
dium  ;  or  Dr.  Lombroso,  the  founder  of  the  science 
of  criminology.  Are  Maxwell,  Dr.  Vesine, 
Richet,  and  our  own  American,  Dr.  Hyslop, 
dreamers?  Why,  even  Professor  James,  the 
mighty  Harvard  psychologist,  took  a  peep  at 
ghosts.  And,  instead  of  laughing  at  '  spooks,'  the 
big  scientific  men  are  trying  to  lay  hold  of  them. 
I  tell  you,  Peter,  Science  is  just  beginning  to  peer 
through  the  half-open  door  that  a  few  years  ago 
was  shut  tight." 


68         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"Trying  to  lay  hold  of  ghosts,  are  they?" 
said  Grimm.  "  I'd  like  to  lay  hold  of  one.  I'd 
lug  it  to  the  nearest  police  station.  That's  the 
place  for  'em.  Just  as  the  asylum's  the  place  for 
folks  who  believe  in  'em.  When  you  '  pass  over,' 
Andrew,  you'd  better  not  come  back.  You  won't 
enjoy  prowling  around  a  world  where  sane  people 
don't  believe  you  exist." 

"  Peter,"  reproved  McPherson,  "  I'm  sorry — 
very,  very  sorry — that  you  and  others  like  you 
think  it's  smart  to  make  a  joke  of  something  you 
can't  understand.  Hyslop  was  right  when  he  said 
Man  will  spend  millions  of  dollars  to  discover  the 
North  Pole,  but  not  one  cent  to  throw  a  ray  of 
light  upon  his  immortal  destiny." 

"  And,  after  the  millions  of  times  they've  been 
exposed,  you  blame  me  for  not  joining  in  your 
belief  in  spook  mediums !  " 

"  A  lot  of  mediums  are  humbugs,  I  grant  you. 
Just  as  there  are  fakers  in  every  profession.  If 
there  were  no  such  thing  as  real  money,  there 
would  be  no  object  in  making  counterfeits.  And 
some  of  the  mediums  have  proven  clearly  that  they 
are  capable  of  real  demonstrations." 

"They  are,  hey?  What's  the  use  of  mediums 
at  all  if  the  dead  can  really  come  back?  If  my 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  69 

friends  who  have  died  return  to  earth,  why  don't 
they  walk  straight  up  to  me  and  say,  *  Well, 
Peter  Grimm.  Here  we  are !  '  When  they  do 
that,  I  shall  gladly  be  the  first  man  to  take  off 
my  hat  to  them  and  hold  out  my  hand.  But  as 
long  as  they  have  to  employ  greasy  mediums  to 
make  their  presence  known,  and  try  to  prove  they 
are  with  me  by  knocking  on  tables  and  tipping 
chairs  and  scratching  on  slates,  there  is  only  one 
of  two  things  to  believe:  Either  mediums  are 
fakes,  or  else  folks  all  become  imbecile  practical 
jokers  as  soon  as  they  die." 

"Imbecile  practical  jokers!"  repeated  Kath- 
rien,  shocked. 

"Yes,"  reiterated  Peter  Grimm.  "That's 
what  I  said.  And  it's  a  mild  way  of  putting  it. 
Would  any  sane  man  play  such  tricks  as  the 
spiritualists  attribute  to  our  dead?  It  shatters 
every  thought  of  the  majesty  of  death.  Would 
a  sane  live  man  walk  into  my  house  and  announce 
his  presence  to  me  by  rapping  on  a  wall  or  tip 
ping  a  table  or  scrawling  idiotic  messages  on  a 
slate  or  talking  to  me  through  some  half-educated 
'medium1?  Would  he ?" 

"  Yes,  he  would !  "  asserted  the  doctor.  "  He'd 
do  all  those  things  and  more,  if  he  couldn't  make 


70        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

you  see  him  or  hear  him  in  any  other  way.  As 
to  mediums, — why  doesn't  a  telegram  travel 
through  the  air  as  well  as  on  a  wire?  Your 
friends  could  come  back  to  you  in  the  old  way 
if  you  could  but  put  yourself  in  a  receptive  con 
dition.  But  you  can't.  So  you  must  depend  on 
a  non-professional  medium, — a  '  sensitive  ' " 

"  See,  Katje,"  interpolated  Grimm,  "  he  has 
names  for  them  all.  All  neatly  classified  like  so 
many  germs  in  a  bottle.  Well,  Andrew,  how 
many  ghosts  did  you  see  last  night?  He  has 
only  to  shut  his  eyes,  Katje,  and  along  comes  the 
parade.  Spooks  I  Spooks !  Spooks !  Nice, 
grisly,  shivering,  spooky  spooks !  And  now  he 
wants  me  to  put  my  house  in  order  and  settle 
up  my  affairs  and  join  the  parade." 

"Settle  your  affairs?"  asked  Kathrien  puz 
zled. 

"  Oh,  it's  just  his  nonsense,"  Grimm  hastened 
to  assure  her.  "  Andrew," — he  hurried  on  to  turn 
the  subject  from  dangerous  personalities, — "  you've 
seen  a  whole  lot  of  people  pass  over  to  the  Other 
Side.  In  fact,  your  patients  seem  to  have  quite 
a  habit  of  doing  that.  Tell  me:  did  you  ever 
see  one  out  of  all  that  number  come  back  again? 
Just  one?  " 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  71 

"  No,"  answered  McPherson  reluctantly,.  "  I 
never  did,  but " 

"  No,"  cried  Grimm  in  triumph,  "  and  what's 
more,  you  never  will.  Yet  you " 

"  There  was  not  perhaps  the  intimate  bond  be 
tween  doctor  and  patients  to  bring  them  back  to 
me.  But  in  my  own  family,  I've  known  of  a 
4  return  '  such  as  you  speak  of.  A  distant  cousin 
of  mine  died  in  London.  And  at  almost  that 
very  instant,  she  was  seen  in  New  York." 

"Rubbish!" 

"  Rubbish?  Why?  A  century  ago,  if  any  one 
had  tried  to  describe  the  telephone,  people  of 
your  sort  would  have  grunted  '  Rubbish !  '  But 
if  my  voice  can  carry  thousands  of  miles  over  the 
telephone,  why  cannot  a  soul,  with  God-given 
force  behind  it,  dart  over  the  entire  universe?  Is 
Thomas  Edison  greater  than  God?  " 

"  Oh,  Doctor,"  gasped  the  horrified  Kathrien. 

"  And  what's  more,"  rushed  on  McPherson,  un 
heeding,  "  they  can't  lay  it  all  to  telepathy.  In 
the  case  of  a  spirit  message  giving  the  contents 
of  a  sealed  letter  known  only  to  the  person  who 
has  died — telepathy,  eh?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Here's 
a  case  you  must  have  heard  of,  Peter.  An  officer 
on  the  Polar  vessel  Jeannette  sent  out  by  a  New 


72         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

York  newspaper,  appeared  one  night  at  his  wife's 
bedside.  She  was  in  Brooklyn.  She  knew  per 
fectly  well  that  he  was  on  the  Polar  Sea.  He  said 
to  her:  'Count!'  Then  she  distinctly  heard  a 
ship's  bell  and  her  husband's  voice  saying  again, 
'  Count !  '  She  had  counted  '  six  '  when  his  voice 
said:  'Six  bells!  And  the  Jeannette  is  lost!' 
The  ship,  it  turned  out  later,  was  really  lost  at 
the  very  time  the  woman  had  the  vision.  There ! 
Account  for  that  by  telepathy  or  trickery  if  you 
can!" 

"  A  bad  dream !  "  was  Grimm's  unshaken  ver 
dict.  "  I  have  them  every  now  and  then.  '  Six 
bells  and ' — suet  pudding  brings  me  messages 
from  the  North  Pole.  And  I  can  get  messages 
from  Kingdom  Come  when  I've  had  half  a  hot 
mince  pie  with  melted  cheese  on  it  for  supper. 
That  disposes  of  your  Jeannette  case." 

"  Scoff  if  you  like.  There  have  been  more  than 
seventeen  thousand  other  cases  which  the  London 
Society  of  Psychical  Research  has  found  worth 
investigating." 

"  Well,  Andrew,"  asked  Grimm,  with  a  covert 
wink  at  Kathrien,  "  supposing,  for  the  sake  of 
argument,  that  I  did  want  to  '  come  back,'  how 
could  I  manage  it?  " 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  73 

At  the  question  the  doctor's  rising  irritation  at 
the  other's  friendly  mockery  was  swept  away  by 
the  zeal  of  prospective  proselyting. 

"  In  this  way,  Peter,"  he  declared.  "  Let  me 
make  it  clear  as  simply  as  I  can.  In  hypnotism 
our  thoughts  take  possession  of  the  person  we 
hypnotise.  When  our  personalities  enter  their 
bodies,  something  goes  out  of  them: — a  sort  of 
Shadow  Self.  This  '  Self '  can  be  sent  out  of  the 
room — out  of  the  house — even  to  a  long  distance. 
This  '  Self '  is  the  force  that,  I  firmly  believe, 
departs  from  us  entirely  on  the  first  or  second  or 
third  day  after  death.  This  is  the  force  you  could 
send  back.  The  astral  envelope.  Do  I  make  it 
plain?" 

"  Plain?  Plain  as  a  flower  in  the  mud  on  a 
dark  night.  But  how  do  you  know  I've  got  an — 
4  envelope '?  " 

"  Every  one  has.  Why,  De  Roche  has  actu 
ally  photographed  one,  by  means  of  radio-pho 
tography." 

Grimm  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  shouted  aloud 
with  laughter. 

"  Mind  you,"  went  on  McPherson,  laboriously 
anxious  to  make  clear  his  point,  "  they  could  not 
see  it  when  they  were  photographing  it." 


74         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  No,  I  should  imagine  not.  Nor  the  picture 
after  it  was  taken.  But  in  other  respects,  I  don't 
doubt  it  was  a  splendid  likeness." 

"  Wait,  before  you  try  to  be  funny.  Wait  till 
I  tell  you  about  it.  This  '  envelope  '  or  Shadow 
Self  stood  a  few  feet  away  from  the  sleeper.  It 
was  invisible,  of  course,  to  the  eye.  It  was  only 
located  by  striking  the  air  and  watching  for  the 
corresponding  portion  of  the  sleeper's  body  to  re 
coil.  By  pricking  a  certain  part  of  the  Shadow 
Self  with  a  pin,  the  cheek  of  the  patient  could  be 
made  to  bleed.  It  was  at  that  spot  that  the 
camera  was  focussed  for  fifteen  minutes !  The 
result  was " 

"  A  spoiled  film." 

"  No,  the  profile  of  a  head !  "  contradicted  Dr. 
McPherson. 

Grimm  stared  at  him  wonderingly. 

"And  you  actually  believe  such  idiocy?"  he 
demanded. 

"  It  isn't  a  mere  question  of  belief,"  declared 
McPherson,  "  but  of  absolute  knowledge.  De 
Roche,  who  took  the  picture,  is  not  a  fraud,  but 
a  lawyer  of  high  standing.  A  room  full  of  fa 
mous  scientists  saw  the  picture  taken." 

"  If  they  were  honest,  they  were  hypnotised." 


A  WARNING  AND  A  THEORY  75 

"  Perhaps  you  think  the  camera  was  hypno 
tised,  too,"  retorted  the  doctor.  "  Lombroso  says 
that  once  under  similar  circumstances  an  unnatural 
current  of  cold  air  went  through  the  room 
and  lowered  the  thermometer  several  degrees. 
These  are  facts.  Can  you  hypnotise  a  thermo 
meter?" 

"Oh,  isn't  that  wonderful?"  breathed  Kath- 
rien. 

Grimm  patted  her  shoulder  gently,  smiling  as 
one  might  smile  who  sees  a  dearly  loved  child 
taken  in  by  a  wonder-story.  Then  he  turned  to 
McPherson,  the  banter  in  face  and  voice  changed 
to  mild  reproof. 

"  No,  Andrew,"  said  he,  reaching  for  his  long 
meerschaum  pipe  and  holding  its  coffee-brown  bowl 
lovingly  between  his  thick  fingers,  as  he  proceeded 
to  fill  it  from  a  pouch  on  the  mantel,  "  No,  An 
drew.  I  refuse  your  compact.  I'll  have  no  part 
or  parcel  in  it.  Because  it's  an  impossible  thing 
you  ask  of  me.  We  don't  come  back.  One  can 
not  pick  the  lock  of  Heaven's  gate.  It  is  no  part 
of  our  terms  with  the  Almighty.  God  did  enough 
for  us  when  He  gave  us  life  and  gave  us  the 
strength  to  work,  and  then  gave  us  work  to  do. 
He  owes  us  no  explanation.  I'll  take  my  chances 


76        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

on  the  old-fashioned  Paradise — with  a  locked  gate. 
No  bogies  for  me." 

With  another  reassuring  smile  at  Kathrien  as 
she  went  out  with  the  tray  of  breakfast  things,  he 
lighted  his  pipe  and  repeated  musingly: 

"  No  bogies  for  me,  I  say.  Who  are  you  that 
you  should  take  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  by  vio 
lence?  Why,"  he  broke  out,  "what  ails  you, 
man?" 


CHAPTER  V 

A   QUEER   COMPACT. 

"  HAVE  you  done?  "  rasped  McPherson.  "  Have 
you  quite  done?  " 

"Why,  what ?" 

"  Then  listen  to  me.  Abuse  is  not  argument. 
Neither  is  silly  mockery.  I  console  myself  with 
the  thought  that  men  have  laughed  at  the  theory 
of  the  earth  going  round,  and  at  vaccination,  and 
lightning  rods,  and  magnetism,  and  daguerreo 
types,  and  steamboats,  and  cars,  and  telephones, 
and  at  the  theory  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 
and  at  wireless  telegraphy,  and  at  flying  in  the  air. 
So  your  gibing  is  forgivable.  But — I'm  very,  very 
much  disappointed,  Peter,  that  so  old  a  friend 
should  refuse  such  a  simple  request.  I'll  be  wish 
ing  you  a  very  good  day." 

"  Hold  on,  Andrew !  Hold  on !  "  cried  Grimm, 
hastily  setting  down  his  pipe  and  hurrying  forward 
to  intercept  his  angrily  departing  guest.  "  Man, 
man,  can't  you  keep  your  temper?  I  didn't  mean 
to  rile  you.  Come  back.  If  you  take  the  thing 
so  seriously,  I'll — I'll  make  the  compact  with  you. 

77 


78         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Here's  my  hand  on  it.  I  know  you're  an  old  fool. 
And  I'm  another.  So  we're  both  in  bad  company. 
Shake  hands.  Now  then  !  Whichever  of  us  does 
go  first  is  to  come  back  and  try  to  make  himself 
known  to  the  other.  And " 

A  fit  of  uncontrollable  laughter  cut  across  his 
words.  The  doctor  frowned  pettishly  and  made 
as  though  to  turn  away.  But  Peter  still  held  his 
hand  and  would  not  let  it  go. 

"  There,  Andrew!  "  he  said  remorsefully,  as  he 
wiped  the  laughter  tears  from  his  eyes.  "  I've 
riled  you  again.  I'm  sorry.  We'll  leave  the  mat 
ter  this  way:  if  I  go  first — and  if  I  can  come  back, 
I  will  come  back — and  I'll  apologise  to  you  for 
being  in  the  wrong.  There!  Does  that  satisfy 
you,  Andrew?  I  say  I'll  come  back  and  apolo 
gise." 

"You  mean  it,  Peter?"  asked  McPherson 
eagerly.  "  You're  not  joking?  " 

"  No,  I  mean  it.  If  I  can,  I'll  come  back.  And 
if  I  come  back  I'll  apologise  to  you.  It's  a  deal. 
Now  let's  have  a  nip  of  my  plum  brandy  to  seal 
the  compact." 

"Good!" 

"  I'll  step  down  to  the  cellar  and  get  a  fresh 
bottle  of  it.  That  one  on  the  sideboard  hasn't  got 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  79 

two  man's  size  drinks  left  in  it.  I'll  be  back 
in  a  minute  and  then  we'll  drink  to  spooks.  Espe 
cially  to  spooks  that  come  back  and  apologise." 

With  a  chuckle  at  his  own  odd  conceit,  he  van 
ished  cellarward.  As  the  door  closed  behind  him, 
Kathrien  came  in  from  the  dining-room,  where 
evidently  she  had  been  awaiting  a  chance  for  a 
word  alone  with  McPherson. 

"  Doctor,"  she  asked  almost  breathlessly,  "  do 
you  really  believe  the  dead  can  come  back?" 

"  Why  not  ?  "  demanded  McPherson,  beginning 
to  bristle  for  a  new  argument.  "  Why  shouldn't 
they?" 

"  But — you  mean  to  say  you  could  come  back 
to  this  room  if  you  were  dead,  and  I  could  see 
you?" 

"  You  might  not  see  me.  I  don't  say  you  could. 
But  I  could  come  back." 

"  And — and  could  you  talk  to  me?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  But,  could  I  hear  you?  " 

"  That  I  don't  know.  You  see,  that's  what  we 
gropers  after  the  light  are  trying  to  make  possible. 
Hello !  "  he  interrupted  himself,  in  a  none  too 
pleased  whisper.  "  Here  are  some  people  that  can 
talk  and  that  one  can't  help  hearing!  " 


8o         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Ushered  in  by  Willem,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Batholom- 
mey,  the  local  Episcopal  clergyman  of  Grimm 
Manor,  and  his  placid,  portly  wife,  swept  in  from 
the  vestibule  on  clerical  visitation  bent. 

"  Good-morning,  Doctor,"  sighed  Mrs.  Bathol- 
ommey,  comprising  the  whole  sunlit  room  in  one 
all-compassionate  glance. 

"  Good-morning,  Kathrien." 

"  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Batholommey,"  an 
swered  Kathrien,  loudly  enough  to  drown  McPher- 
son's  growl  of  unwelcoming  welcome.  "  Good- 
morning,  Pastor.  Oom  Peter  will  be  back  directly. 
I'll  tell  him  you're  here." 

She  hurried  out  of  the  room.  McPherson 
showed  strong  inclination  to  follow  her.  But 
Mrs.  Batholommey  had  already  singled  him  out 
for  her  prey  and  bore  down  upon  him  with  a  be 
comingly  woe-begone  face. 

"  Oh,  Doctor,"  she  panted,  wiping  her  eyes. 
"  Does  he  know  it  yet?  Does  he?  " 

u  Does  who  know  what?  "  snapped  the  doctor, 
his  glance  straying  wrathfully  toward  the  rotund 
clergyman,  who  all  at  once  assumed  an  abjectly 
apologetic  air  and  interested  himself  in  a  picture 
on  the  farther  wall. 

"  Poor  dear  Mr.  Grimm,"  pursued  Mrs.  Bath- 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  81 

olommey.  "  Does  he  know  he's  going  to 
die?" 

Willem,  who  was  halfway  out  of  the  room  by 
this  time,  halted,  turned  back  and,  unobserved, 
stood  listening  with  wide  eyes  and  open  mouth. 

"  What  in  blue  blazes  are  you  talking  about?  " 
thundered  McPherson,  glowering  down  on  his  rec 
tor's  wife  in  a  most  unadmiring  manner. 

"  About  Mr.  Grimm.  Does  he  know  yet  that 
he  must  die?  " 

"Does  the  whole  damned  town  know  it?" 
roared  the  doctor. 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Mrs.  Batholommey  in  prim  hor 
ror  at  the  explosive  adjective. 

"  You  see,  Doctor,"  put  in  the  rector  with 
urbane  haste,  before  his  spouse  could  recover 
breath  to  rebuke  the  blasphemer  or  return  to  the 
attaclc.  "You  see,  it's  this  way:  You  consulted 
Mr.  Grimm's  lawyer.  And  his  wife  told  my 
wife." 

"  Gabbed,  did  he  ?  "  snorted  McPherson.  "  To 
perdition  with  the  professional  man  who  gabs  to 
his  wife!" 

"  Oh,  Doctor !  "  expostulated  Mrs.  Batholom 
mey.  "Ho  wean ?" 

"  I  am  inexpressibly  grieved,"  said  her  husband, 


82        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  to  learn  that  Mr.  Grimm  has  an  incurable  mal 
ady.  And  is  it  true  that  the  nature  of  it  is ?  " 

"  The  nature  of  the  whole  affair  is  this"  re 
turned  McPherson.  "  He  isn't  to  be  told.  Un 
derstand  that,  please.  He  must  not  know.  I 
didn't  say  he  had  to  die  at  once.  He  may  outlive 
us  all.  He  probably  will.  And,  in  any  event, 
no  one  must  speak  to  him  about  it." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Mrs.  Batholommey  in 
lofty  rebuke,  "  that  a  man's  rector  might  be 
allowed  to  talk  to  him  on  such  a  theme.  It  seems 
to  me,  Dr.  McPherson,  if  you  can't  do  any  more, 
it's  his  turn.  From  the  way  you  doctors  assume 
control  of  everything,  it's  a  wonder  to  me  you 
don't  want  to  baptise  the  babies,  too." 

"  Rose !  "  murmured  the  doctor  in  mild  reproof. 

"  At  the  last  moment,"  Mrs.  Batholommey  in 
sisted,  ignoring  her  husband,  "  Mr.  Grimm  will 
want  to  make  a  will.  And  you  know  he  hasn't. 
He'll  want  to  remember  the  Episcopal  Church  of 
Grimm  Manor,  and  his  charities — and  his — 
friends.  If  he  doesn't,  the  rector  will  be  blamed 
as  usual.  You're  not  doing  right,  Doctor,  in 
keeping " 

"Rosef  My  dear!"  interjected  her  husband, 
"  These  private  matters " 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  83 

"  But " 

"  I'll  trouble  you,  Mrs.  Batholommey,"  shouted 
McPherson,  "  to  attend  to  your  own  affairs, 
and " 

"Doctor!"  bleated  the  rector. 

"Oh,  let  him  talk,  Henry!"  sniffed  Mrs. 
Batholommey  in  semi-tearful  exaltation.  "  I  can 
bear  it.  Besides,"  coming  to  earth  level,  "  no  one 
in  town  pays  any  attention  to  what  he  says  since 
he  has  taken  up  with  spiritualism." 

"Oh,  Rose!     My  dear!" 

"  Shut  up !  "  whispered  McPherson  wrathfully. 
"  Here  he  comes.  Remember  what  I " 

Peter  Grimm  put  an  end  to  the  warning  by 
reappearing  from  the  cellar  with  a  small  demijohn 
in  his  hand.  His  face  brightened  into  a  smile 
of  pleasant  greeting  as  he  saw  his  two  new 
guests. 

"  Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is  the  jolliest 
sort  of  a  surprise.  I  hope  I  haven't  kept  you 
waiting  long?  " 

The  rector  and  his  wife  glanced  at  each  other 
in  embarrassment.  Mrs.  Batholommey  turned 
toward  Peter  with  a  lachrymose  grimace,  intended 
doubtless  for  a  consoling  smile,  and  seemed  about 
to  break  into  a  torrent  of  speech.  But  the  rector, 


84         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

after  a  timid  look  at  McPherson,  nervously  fore 
stalled  her  by  coming  hurriedly  to  the  front. 

"  Good-morning,  dear  friend,"  said  he.  "  This 
is  just  a  little  impromptu  visit  of  gratitude.  We 
wish  to  thank  you  for  the  lovely  flowers  that 
Willem  brought  us  a  few  minutes  ago,  and  for  the 
noble  check  you  sent  yesterday." 

"  Why,"  laughed  Peter  uncomfortably,  "  please 
don't  even  think  of  thanking  me.  I " 

"  And,"  nervously  pursued  the  rector,  sparring 
for  time,  "  I  want  to  let  you  know  how  much  we 
are  still  enjoying  the  delicious  vegetables  you  so 
generously  provided.  I  did  relish  that  squash.  If 
I  were  obliged  to  say  offhand  what  my  favourite 
vegetable  is,  I " 

"  Pardon  me,"  interposed  Peter,  his  glance 
straying  past  the  rector  and  resting  with  swift  con 
cern  upon  Mrs.  Batholommey's  quivering  expanse 
of  face,  "  but  is  anything  distressing  you,  Mrs. 
Ba ?" 

"No,  no!"  interjected  the  rector  with  break 
neck  haste. 

"No,  no!"  responded  Mrs.  Batholommey  in 
the  same  breath. 

A  half  inaudible  growl  from  Dr.  McPherson 
completed  the  triple  chord  of  negation.  A  chord 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  85 

so  explosive,  so  crassly  out  of  keeping  with  the 
simple  question  that  evoked  it  that  Grimm  stared 
amazed  from  one  of  the  trio  to  another. 

Willem,  strolling  from  his  retreat,  crossed  to 
the  table,  picked  up  a  picture  book,  and  in  leisurely 
fashion  mounted  with  it  to  the  gallery  landing  that 
overlooked  the  room.  There  he  threw  himself 
on  a  settee  between  the  bedroom  doors  and  opened 
the  book  at  random. 

His  lower  lip  quivered  ever  so  little  and  his 
blue  eyes  were  big  with  a  troubled  wonder.  From 
time  to  time  his  glance  would  stray  from  the 
gaudy  pages  of  the  picture  book  down  to  Grimm 
in  the  room  below.  And  each  time  the  wonder 
in  his  eyes  became  tinged  with  a  new  sorrow. 

Meantime,  Peter  Grimm's  look  of  questioning, 
perplexed  sympathy  toward  her  tumult  ridden  self 
was  becoming  far  too  much  for  Mrs.  Batholom- 
mey's  jellylike  self-control.  The  jelly  began  to 
quake — quite  visibly. 

"  I  was  afraid,"  Peter  went  on  kindly,  "  that 
something  unpleasant  might  have  happened.  And 
I  hoped  perhaps  I  might  be  able " 

"  Oh,  no !  No,  no,  no! "  denied  the  utterly 
flustered  woman.  "  I — I  hope  you  are  feeling 
well,  Mr.  Grimm.  No — no — I  don't  mean  that. 


86         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

I — I  don't  mean  that  I  hope  you  are  well.  Of 
course  not.  I — that  is " 

"  Of  course  she  hopes  it,"  boomed  her  husband, 
coming  to  the  rescue  with  heavy  and  uncertain 
cheeriness  that  rang  as  false  as  the  ring  of  a 
leaden  dollar.  "  And  of  course  all  of  us  hope  it, 
dear  Mr.  Grimm.  With  all  our  hearts.  And  we 
wish  you  many,  many  years  of  life  and " 

"  Oh,  indeed  we  do,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Batholom- 
mey.  "  And,  as  Dr.  McPherson  just  said,  there 
may  perhaps  be  no  reason, — with  proper  care — 
why  you  shouldn't " 

"  A  blundering  rector  must  be  put  up  with  be 
cause  of  his  cloth.  But  when  it  comes  to  a  blun 
dering  recto rette,  there  ought  to  be  a  line  drawn !  " 

It  was  McPherson  who  said  it.  He  addressed 
no  one,  but  seemed  to  be  confining  his  heretical 
sentiments  to  the  window  seat.  Also  he  spoke  in 
a  gruff  undertone — that  filled  the  room  like  far  off 
thunder. 

Peter  Grimm  flung  himself  into  the  breach,  even 
before  the  wave  of  outraged  red  could  gush  to 
Mrs.  Batholommey's  shaking  visage. 

"  Will  you — will  you  have  a  glass  of  plum 
brandy?"  he  asked  her,  and  then  caught  himself 
with  the  scared  grin  of  a  very  guilty  schoolboy. 


"I  believe,"  said  Peter  irrelevantly,  "that  St.  Paul  was 
a  single  man,  was  he  not,  Pastor?" 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  87 

"  I  thank  you,"  she  retorted,  safe  for  the  mo 
ment  in  the  full  majesty  of  Temperance.  "  I  do 
not  take  such  things.  Perhaps  you  forget  I  am 
the  President  of  our  local  W.  C.  T.  U.  and 
the " 

"  The  Little  Brothers  of  the  Artesian  Well," 
added  Grimm,  "  or  whatever  they  call  it.  I  re 
member.  And  I'm  sorry.  I  wouldn't  tempt  you 
from  your  principles  for  the  world.  Forgive  me. 
How  about  you,  Pastor?  A  little  drop  of  plum 
brandy,  for — for — let's  see,  what  is  it  St.  Paul  says 
about ?" 

''  Thank  you,  no,"  declined  the  rector,  with  an 
apprehensive  gesture  towards  his  wife. 

"Oh,  come,  come!"  urged  Peter  hospitably. 
;'  Why,  the  other  evening  when  you  dropped  over 
here  after  the  vespers,  sir,  you " 

"  I  only  use  it  when  absolutely  needful  for 
medicinal  purposes,"  insisted  the  rector  hurriedly. 
"  Not  to-day,  I  thank  you." 

"  I  believe,"  said  Peter  irrelevantly,  "  that  St. 
Paul  was  a  single  man,  was  he  not,  Pastor?" 

"  I — I  believe  so.  It  is  not  definitely  known. 
But  why?" 

"  I  was  only  wondering,"  mused  Peter,  "  how 
he  would  have  accounted  to  St.  Pauline,  or  what- 


88         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

ever  his  wife's  name  would  have  been,  for  what 
he  wrote  in  favour  of  '  a  little  wine  for — '  ' 

"  Oh,"  explained  Mrs.  Batholommey,  still  safe, 
and  ever  feeling  safer,  now  that  temperance  was 
again  the  theme,  "  St.  Paul  referred  to  unfer- 
mented  wine,  you  know.  Every  one  ought  to  un 
derstand  that.  It  is  so  hard  to  make  people  see 
the  difference." 

"  One  bottle  would  convince  them,"  said  Peter 
very  gravely. 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Batholommey  corrected  him  with 
serene  loftiness.  "  You  do  not  quite  get  my  point, 
dear  Mr.  Grimm.  For  instance,  when  the  poets, — 
even  good  men  like  the  late  Mr.  Longfellow  and 
Mr.  Whittier — speak  of  '  wine,'  they  use  the  word 
of  course  in  its  poetical  sense.  They  use  it  merely 
to  typify " 

"  Booze,"  growled  McPherson. 

"  Good  cheer,"  amended  Mrs.  Batholommey, 
withering  him  with  a  single  frown.  "  And  yet  it 
is  terribly  misleading.  I  remember  when  we  had 
the  Walter  Scott  Tableaux  and  Recitations  at  the 
church  last  fall,  and  old  Mr.  Bertholf  from  Pomp- 
ton  was  going  to  recite  '  Lochinvar,'  I  had  to  sug 
gest  a  change  in  the  poem,  lest  the  ignorant  people 
in  the  village  might  get  a  wrong  impression  of 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  89 

dear  Sir  Walter  Scott's  principles.     You  remem 
ber  the  couplet  occurs : 

"  '  And  now  I  have  come  with  this  lost  love  of  mine 
To  tread  one  last  measure,  drink  one  cup  of  wine.' 

"  So  I  asked  Mr.  Bertholf  to  alter  the  words 
into  something  like  this: 

"  '  And  now  I  have  come  with  this  beautiful  maid 
To  tread  one  last  measure, — drink  one  lemonade.' 

"  It  left  the  poetry  just  as  beautiful  and  it  took 
away  the  dangerous  reference  to  wine.  Mr.  Ber 
tholf  didn't  like  it  very  much,  I'm  afraid.  But  I 
insisted,  and  at  last " 

"  And  at  last,"  snarled  McPherson,  to  whom  the 
thought  of  any  mutilation  of  his  fellow  Scotch 
man's  verse  was  as  sacrilege,  "  and  at  last,  poor 
Bertholf  got  so  mixed  up  that  he  clean  forgot  the 
silly  rot  you'd  taught  him.  And  when  he  came 
to  that  part  of  the  poem,  he  stammered  for  a 
second  and  then  blurted  out: 

"  '  And  now  I  have  come  with  my  lovely  lost  mate 

To  tread  one  last  measure,  drink  one  whiskey  straight."* 

"  Yes,"  blazed  Mrs.  Batholommey,  "  and  I 
have  always  believed  you  put  him  up  to  it." 

"  Well,"  shrugged  the  noncommittal  McPher 
son,  "  if  I  had,  it  would  at  least  be  more  in  keep- 


90        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

ing  with  what  Sir  Walter  intended  than  your 
straining  an  immortal  poem  through  a  lemon- 
squeezer." 

"  Andrew  and  I,"  announced  Peter,  hastening 
to  pour  oil  on  the  troubled  waters  of  conversa 
tion,  by  filling  two  glasses  and  handing  one  of 
them  to  McPherson,  "  are  going  to  drink  a  toast 
to  spooks." 

"  What?  "  squealed  Mrs.  Batholommey,  in  the  * 
accents  of  a  rabbit  that  has  been  stepped  on. 

"  To  spooks — we " 

"  Oh,  how  can  you?  "  she  gasped.  "  How  can 
you  ?  To  spooks !  You  of  all  men !  The  very 
idea !  " 

"  Mrs.  Batholommey!  "  exclaimed  Peter  in  real 
alarm,  setting  down  his  glass  and  moving  to 
ward  her.  "  Something  has  happened !  You  are 
quite " 

"  No,  no!  "  she  wailed  helplessly. 

"  It  is  nothing,  Mr.  Grimm,"  soothed  the  rector. 
"  Nothing  at  all,  I  assure  you.  My  wife  is  a  trifle 
overwrought  this  morning.  Nothing  of  any  con 
sequence.  I  mean — that  is,  of  course — we  must 
all  keep  our  spirits  up,  Mr.  Grimm." 

"  Good  Lord,  deliver  us!  "  intoned  McPherson 
in  mingled  fervour  and  disgust. 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  91 

"  I  know  what  it  is,"  declared  Peter  with  sud 
den  enlightenment.  "  You've  just  come  from  a 
wedding!  That's  it!  I  know.  Women  love 
weddings  better  than  anything  on  earth.  They'll 
talk  about  it  for  months  beforehand.  They'll 
walk  miles  to  attend  one. — And  they'll  weep  all 
the  rest  of  the  day.  I  don't  know  why.  But  they 
do  it.  I  should  be  grateful,  I  suppose,  that  no 
women  were  ever  called  upon  to  shed  tears  at  my 
wedding.  But  I  hope,  before  so  very  long " 

Mrs.  Batholommey  had  not  in  the  very  least 
caught  the  drift  of  the  laughing  speech  whereby 
he  had  sought  to  put  the  poor  woman  at  her  ease. 
And  now  all  at  once,  the  last  sagging  vestige  of 
self-control  went  from  her. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Grimm!  "  she  moaned,  breaking  in 
upon  his  words.  "  You  were  always  so  kind  to 
us.  There  never  was  a  better,  kinder,  gentler  man 
in  all  this  -world  than  you  were." 

"  Than  I  was?  "  asked  Peter  bewildered.  "  Is 
my  character  changing  or ?  " 

"  No,  no!  "  she  corrected  herself  flounderingly. 
"  I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean — I  meant " 

Her  gaze  fluttered  helplessly  about  the  big  room 
and  chanced  at  last  to  fall  upon  the  reading  boy, 
asprawl  on  the  gallery  bench  above  them. 


92         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  I  meant,"  she  plunged  along,  "  what  would 
become  of  poor  little  Willem  if  you ?  " 

This  time  her  glance  was  caught  and  transfixed 
by  McPherson's  furious  glare,  much  as  a  great 
flopping  beetle  might  be  pierced  by  the  sting  of  a 
wasp.  Mrs.  Batholommey  prided  herself  upon 
her  tact.  That  glare  nerved  her  to  another  effort. 

"  You  see,"  she  shrilled,  wildly  and  awkwardly 
clambering  out  of  the  slough,  "  it's  fearful  he 
had  such  a  '  M.'  " 

"  Such  a  '  M  '  ?  "  queried  Peter.  "  What  does 
that  mean?  " 

With  a  warning  glance  toward  the  absorbed  boy 
she  shaped  her  lips  noiselessly  into  the  word 
"  Mother." 

"Oh!  "said  Peter.    "  I  understand.    But " 

"  She  ought  to  have  told  Mr.  Batholommey  or 
me,"  went  on  Mrs.  Batholommey,  climbing  still 
higher  on  to  solid  ground,  "  who  the  '  F '  was." 

"  '  F  '  ?     What  does  that  mean  ?  " 

And  again  the  rabbit-like  lips  shaped  themselves 
into  a  soundless  word,  this  time  *  Father.'  ' 

"  Oh,"  grunted  Peter,  "  the  word  you  want  isn't 
'  Father,'  but  '  Scoundrel ! '  Whoever  he  is " 

Willem  flung  aside  his  book  and  leaped  to  his 
feet  as  though  his  little  body  were  galvanised. 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  93 

The  others  looked  at  him  in  guilty  dread,  fearing 
he  had  heard  and  had  somehow  understood  their 
awkwardly  veiled  allusions  to  his  parentage.  But 
they  were  mistaken.  A  sound,  far  more  potent  to 
every  normal  child's  ear  than  the  fiercest  thunders 
of  morality,  had  reached  his  keen  senses  as  he 
lounged  up  there.  And  a  moment  later  they  all 
heard  it. 

It  was  the  braying  of  a  distant  but  steadily 
approaching  brass  band.  With  it  came  a  confused 
but  ever  louder  medley  of  shouts,  handclapping, 
raucous  voices,  and  the  higher  tones  of  delighted 
children.  As  Kathrien  came  running  in  at  one 
door,  followed  by  Marta,  and  Frederik  sauntered 
in  from  the  office,  Willem  rushed  down  the  stair 
way  and  into  the  window  seat,  where  he  sprang 
upon  a  chair  and  craned  his  neck  to  see  the  stretch 
of  village  street  beyond.  Nearer  and  louder  came 
the  music  and  the  attendant  vocal  Babel. 

"  It's  the  circus  parade !  "  shouted  Willem. 
"  The  one  they  tell  about  in  the  advertisements 
and  pictures  on  the  fences.  I  didn't  know  the 
parade  would  start  so  early.  There  come  some  of 
them  now.  Oh,  look!  Oom  Peter  1  Look! 
It's  a  clown!  See!  He's  coming  right  toward 
us  I" 


94         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

The  band  in  full  brazen  force  was  discoursing 
a  "  Dutch  Ditties  "  waltz  as  it  turned  the  corner 
above.  And  now,  the  voices  of  the  barkers  were 
heard  in  the  land. 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  came  the  leathern 
tones  of  one  unseen  announcer,  "  one  hour  before 
the  big  show  begins  in  the  main  tent  we  will  give 
a  grand  free  balloon  ascension !  " 

"  Remember,"  adjured  a  second  Unseen,  "  one 
price  admits  you  to  all  parts  of  the  big  show  1  " 

"  Lemo — lemo — ice  cold  lemonade — five  cents  a 
glass !  "  shouted  a  youthful  vender. 

"  You  ought  to  quaff  one  beaker  of  it  to  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  memory,  Mrs.  Batholommey,"  ob 
served  McPherson. 

But  the  din  of  the  oncoming  parade  drowned 
his  voice.  The  whole  roomful,  from  Marta 
down  to  Willem,  were  thronging  into  the  bay  win 
dow.  They  were  all  children  again.  A  touch  of 
circus  had  renewed  their  youth  as  by  the  wave  of 
a  magic  wand.  Willem  broke  into  a  cry  of  utter 
joy  and  pointed  ecstatically  at  the  open  window. 

The  next  moment  a  clown,  white  and  vermilion 
of  face,  clad  in  the  traditional  white,  black,  and 
scarlet  motley  of  his  tribe,  had  leaped  cat-like  upon 
the  window  sill  and  swept  the  room  with  his 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  95 

painted  grin.  In  his  hands  he  held  a  great  bunch 
of  variegated  circus  bills.  Tossing  a  half-dozen 
of  these  at  the  feet  of  the  all-absorbed  spectators, 
he  cried  in  high  cracked  falsetto : 

"  Well,  well,  WELL!  Here  we  are  again,  good 
people!  Billy  Miller's  Big  Show!  Larger — 
greater — grander  than  ever.  Everything  new! 
Come  and  see  the  wild  animals !  Hear  the  lions 
roar!" 

Wheeling  suddenly  towards  Mrs.  Batholommey 
he  pointed  a  whitened  forefinger  at  her  and  broke 
into  a  truly  frightful  roar.  The  good  lady  jumped 
at  least  six  inches  from  the  ground. 

"Steady,  ma'am!"  exhorted  the  clown.  "I 
won't  let  him  bite  you !  Come  one,  come  all  I 
Come  see  the  diving  deer!  The  human  fly,  Made 
moiselle  Zarella !  "  he  added,  addressing  the  rector. 
"  She  walks  suspended  from  the  ceiling !  One  ring 
and  no  confusion !  "  he  confided  to  the  delightedly 
smiling  Peter.  "  And  all  for  the  price  of  admis 
sion  !  Remember  the  grand  free  exhibition  one 
hour  before  the  big  show!  " 

He  paused,  catching  sight  of  Willem  for  the 
first  time.  Now,  it  is  a  well-grounded  tradition 
in  one-ring  circus  life  that  no  clown  stays  long  in 
the  business  or  scores  a  hit  in  it  unless  he  is  genu- 


96        THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

inely  fond  of  children.  Noting  the  all-absorbing 
bliss  and  adoration  in  Willem's  wide  eyes,  the 
clown  grinned  at  the  boy  in  right  brotherly 
fashion. 

"  Howdy !  "  said  he  cordially.  "  Shake !  " 
Marvelling,  overcome  with  rapture,  feeling  as 
though  the  proffered  honour  was  one  far  too  won 
derful  to  be  real,  Willem  shyly  extended  his  hand 
and  met  the  friendly  grasp  of  the  flour-dusted 
fingers.  The  clown,  striking  an  attitude,  began 
in  shrill,  exaggerated  diction,  to  chant  the  anti 
quated  "  Frog  Opera  "  song: 

"  Uncle  Rat  has  gone  to  town, — Ha-ff'JHf 
Uncle  Rat  has  gone  to  town," 

he  sang  on,  addressing  Willem, 

"  To  buy  his  niece  a  wedding  gown." 

"Ha-H'Mf"  intoned  Willem,  delightedly; 
laughing  aloud  as  he  realised  he  was  actually  sing 
ing  with  a  real  live  clown. 

"What  shall  the  wedding  breakfast  be?" 

continued  the  clown,  interrogating  the  equally 
youthful  and  delighted  Peter  Grimm.  And  this 
time  more  voices  than  Peter's  and  Willem's  caught 
up  the  refrain: 


A  QUEER  COMPACT  97 


Hard-boiled  eggs  and  a  cup  of  tea," 

sang  the  clown.     And  again  from  Willem  and  the 
rest  came  the  answering: 

"Ha-H'M/" 

"  Billy  Miller's  Big  Show!  "  yelled  the  clown. 
"Come  one,  come  all!  So  long,  Sonny!" 

He  was  gone.  The  others  came  back  to  earth. 
But  Willem  was  still  in  the  wonder  clouds.  It 
had  been  to  him  an  experience  to  rehearse  a  thou 
sand  times,  to  dream  over,  to  remember  forever. 
Peter  Grimm,  reading  the  boy's  thoughts  as  could 
only  a  heart  that  must  ever  be  boyish,  beckoned 
Willem  to  him,  as  Kathrien  and  Marta  departed 
to  their  interrupted  work  in  the  dining-room  and 
the  rest  looked  half  ashamed  at  their  momentary 
excitement  over  so  garish  and  trivial  a  thing. 

"Willem!"  called  Grimm. 

"  Ja,  Mynheer,"  answered  the  boy,  coming 
slowly,  his  face  still  alight  with  his  tremendous 
adventure  of  a  moment  ago. 

"  Willem,"  repeated  Grimm,  "  you  wouldn't 
care  to  go  to  that  circus,  would  you?  Wouldn't 
it  be  pretty  stupid?  " 

"  Stupid!  "  gasped  the  boy.     "  Oh  !  " 


98         THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"Well,"  said  Peter,  "suppose  you  go,  then?" 

"  Go?     Really,  Mynheer  Grimm?  " 

"  Go  get  the  seats,"  ordered  Grimm.  "  Here's 
the  money.  Get  two  front  seats.  Two.  We'll 
both  go.  We'll  make  a  night  of  it,  you  and  I. 
We'll  stay  out  till — till  ten  o'clock!  " 

The  vision  of  this  bliss  was  too  much  for  Wil- 
lem's  English. 

"  Ekar,  ekar  na  hat  circus!  "  he  babbled  dazedly. 

Then  he  rushed  up  impulsively  to  Peter  and 
seized  the  big,  kindly  hand  in  both  his  own. 

"  Oh,  Mynheer  Grimm!  "  he  squealed  in  ecstasy. 
"  There  ain't  any  one  else  like  you  in  the  world. 
And — and — when  the  other  fellows  laugh  at  your 
funny  hat,  /  don't." 

"What?"  asked  Grimm,  perplexed.  "Is  my 
hat  funny?  " 

The  boy  was  vibrant  with  laughter,  drunk  with 
anticipation.  But,  momentarily  straightening  his 
glowing  face  with  a  cast  of  semi-gravity,  he  said : 

"And — and — Mynheer  Grimm — it's  too  bad 
you've  got  to  die !  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

BREAKING  THE  NEWS 

THERE  was  an  instant  of  stark,  palsied  silence. 
The  rector,  his  wife,  and  McPherson  looked  at 
the  all-unconscious  boy  with  dumb  horror.  A  hor 
ror  that  for  the  time  crowded  out  indignation. 
Frederik,  ignorant  as  he  was  of  any  cause  for 
emotion,  was  struck  by  the  tense  bearing  of  the 
trio  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  the 
air  of  the  only  man  in  the  room  who  does  not  catch 
a  joke's  point. 

Peter  Grimm  alone  was  not  affected  by  Willem's 
words.  He  was  used  to  the  child's  oddities,  his 
alternating  high  spirits,  and  dashes  of  sadness;  his 
old-fashioned  phrases  and  his  queer  lapses.  Grimm 
broke  the  ominous  silence  with  an  amused  chuckle. 

"  Most  people  die,  sooner  or  later,  Willem,"  he 
answered,  stroking  the  boy's  shock  of  soft  yellow 
hair.  "  I'll  live  to  see  you  in  the  business  though. 
And  we'll  go  to  dozens  of  circuses  together,  too. 
Don't  worry  your  little  head  over  your  Oom 
Peter's  dying.  I " 

He  paused.     The  electrified   atmosphere   gen- 

99 


ioo       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

crated  by  the  three  conspirators  began  to  reach 
his  non-sensitive  brain.  A  quick  glance  at  Mr. 
Batholommey  and  a  second  at  the  rector's  wife 
confirmed  his  vague  feeling  that  something  was 
wrong.  He  turned  back  to  Willem,  in  time  to  in 
tercept  a  blighting  scowl  of  warning  the  doctor  was 
trying  to  flash  to  the  boy. 

"  Willem,"  asked  Grimm  gently,  "  how  did  you 
happen  to  say  such  a  queer  thing  just  now  ?  What 
made  you  think  I'm  going  to  die?  " 

A  concerted  and  unintelligible  interruption  from 
the  trio  was  voiced  too  late  to  prevent  Willem's 
reply. 

"He  said  so,"  replied  the  boy,  pointing  at 
McPherson. 

Then  he  caught  the  doctor's  annihilating  frown. 
And,  simultaneously  the  rector  cried  in  stern  admo 
nition  : 

"Willem!" 

Mrs.  Batholommey,  too,  was  making  quite 
awful  and  wholly  incomprehensible  faces  at  him. 
Under  the  triple  menace  the  boy  wilted.  Like 
every  child,  since  Cain,  he  had  a  thousand  times 
been  reproved  for  things  he  had  said  or  done  in 
perfect  innocence.  In  fact,  the  more  unconscious 
the  offence,  the  more  dire  was  the  reproof.  Chil- 


BREAKING  THE  NEWS  101 

dren  do  not  reason  in  such  matters.  It  is  enough 
for  them  to  know  they  have  said  or  done  the  wrong 
thing;  without  stopping  to  discover  why  or  how 
that  thing  chanced  to  be  wrong. 

The  non-linguist  traveller  in  a  foreign  land  can 
not  read  the  "  Keep  off  the  Grass "  or  "  No 
Thoroughfare  "  signs.  But  the  policeman's  threat 
ening  club  has  a  universal  language  that  he  under 
stands  and  intuitively  obeys.  SoWillem  (ignorant 
of  death  save  as  an  empty  name  that  vaguely 
carried  a  note  of  sorrow,  and  wholly  unaware  why 
he  should  not  have  imparted  the  news  of  Grimm's 
coming  demise),  saw  he  had  said  something  very 
terrible.  And  a  look  of  abject  panic  came  into  his 
face. 

But  Grimm's  hand  was  still  on  his  head, — 
gentle,  caressing,  infinitely  tender  in  its  touch. 

"  No,  don't  stop  the  boy,"  commanded  Peter, 
meeting  the  variously  anguished  glances  of  the 
others  with  a  half  smile  that  began  and  ended  in 
the  suddenly  widened  eyes.  "  Don't  stop  him. 
Only  children  speak  the  truth  nowadays.  It  used 
to  be  '  children  and  fools.'  But  fools  have  learned 
to  tell  fool-lies,  and  they  have  left  children  the 
monopoly  of  truth  telling.  Go  on,  Willem.  You 
heard  the  doctor  say  that  I  am  going  to ?" 


102       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Willem's  fragile  little  body  was  trembling  from 
head  to  foot.  Under  Mrs.  Batholommey's  dis 
torted  glare  and  threatening  noiseless  mouthings 
his  puny  courage  had  gone  to  pieces.  Big  tears 
began  to  roll  down  his  cheeks.  And  noting  the 
child's  terror,  Grimm  fell  to  soothing  him. 

"  There,  there,  jounker,"  comforted  Peter. 
"  Don't  let  them  frighten  you.  Oom  Peter  will 
stand  by  you.  You  haven't  done  anything  wrong 
and  nobody's  going  to  scold  you.  Don't  be 
scared." 

Under  the  strangely  gentle  voice  and  the  con 
soling  touch  of  the  rough,  kindly  hand,  Willem's 
fears  subsided.  With  Oom  Peter  on  his  side,  he 
could  brave  the  frowns  of  all  Grimm  Manor  if 
need  be.  For  who  was  so  strong,  so  wise  as  Oom 
Peter? 

Did  not  every  one  bend  to  his  orders  and  come 
running  to  him  for  advice  and  aid,  as  troubled 
children  seek  out  a  loving  father?  The  boy 
ceased  to  tremble.  He  looked  up  into  Grimm's 
face  for  something  that  should  confirm  the  words 
and  the  touch. 

And  he  found  it.  The  rugged  old  visage  had 
never  before  been  so  kindly,  so  unruffled.  And 
in  the  little  eyes  that  could  flash  so  obstinately 


BREAKING  THE  NEWS  103 

and  irritably,  there  was  nothing  but  friendli 
ness. 

Yes — something  more  that  the  boy  had  never 
before  seen.  Something  he  could  not  read,  but  that 
seemed  to  draw  him  strangely  close  to  the  old  man, 
and  freed  him  of  his  last  vestige  of  fear. 

"  Don't  be  scared,  dear  lad,"  repeated  Grimm. 
"  So  you  heard  Dr.  McPherson  say  I  am  going 
to  die?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Grimm  turned  slowly  to  the  doctor,  who  still 
stood  glowering,  red,  speechless,  furiously  miser 
able. 

"  Andrew,"  asked  Grimm  quietly,  "  what  did 
you  mean?  " 

Before  McPherson  could  speak,  Grimm  checked 
him  with  a  move  of  the  head  and  glanced  down 
at  the  boy. 

"  Never  mind  just  now,"  said  he.  "  Willem 
didn't  mean  any  harm  in  telling  me.  It  just 
popped  out,  didn't  it,  Willem?  The  only  person 
who  never  says  the  wrong  thing  at  the  wrong  time 
is  a  deaf  mute  whose  fingers  are  paralysed.  We'll 
forget  all  about  it.  Now  run  along,  lad,  and  get 
those  circus  tickets  before  all  the  best  ones  are 
gone.  Front  row  seats,  remember.  We're  go- 


104      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

ing  to  have  the  finest  sort  of  a  spree,  you  and  I. 
Hurry  now." 

"  Ja,  Oom  Peter !  "  cried  the  boy,  all  laughter 
once  more. 

He  snatched  his  cap  from  the  rack,  in  his  haste 
almost  upsetting  Grimm's  antiquated  tile  that  hung 
beside  it;  and,  with  a  farewell  shout,  was  gone. 
His  feet  padded  joyously  on  the  gravel  outside; 
then  silence  fell  again  in  the  big  room.  It  was 
Mr.  Batholommey  who  broke  the  spell.  Walk 
ing  solemnly  up  to  Peter,  who  stood  looking  with 
a  sort  of  stunned  wistfulness  straight  in  front  of 
him,  the  rector  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-bye,  dear  brave  friend,"  he  said,  with  an 
air  gruesomely  if  unconsciously  reminiscent  of  his 
burial  service  manner.  "  Any  time  you  telephone 
for  me,  day  or  night,  I'll  run  over  immediately. 
God  bless  you,  sir!  "  his  rounded  voice  shaking 
uncontrollably.  "  I  have  never  come  to  you  in 
behalf  of  any  worthy  charity  and  been  refused. 
You  have  set  an  example  in  upright  living,  in 
generosity,  in  true  manliness,  and  in  constant 
church  attendance  that  should  be  an  example  to> 
all  my  vestrymen  and  to  the  town  at  large.  I 
have  never  seen  a  nobler  man.  Never.  Good — 
good-morning." 


BREAKING  THE  NEWS  105 

He  moved  toward  the  door,  winking  very  fast 
and  clearing  his  throat.  At  the  threshold  he  beck 
oned  to  his  wife.  But  she  had  already  borne  down 
upon  Peter. 

"  Mr.  Grimm!  "  she  sobbed.  "  The  best— the 
kindest — the — the — Oh,  I  don't  see  how  we  are 
going  to  bear  it." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Batholommey,"  answered  Grimm. 
"  Please  don't  be  so  overcome.  I  may  outlive 
you  all.  Nevertheless,  I  am  grateful  to  your 
husband  for  letting  me  hear  my  funeral  eulogy 
in  advance,  and  to  you  for " 

"Oh,  how  can  you  make  light  of  it?"  she 
sobbed.  "  Yes,  dear,  I'm  coming.  Good-bye,. 
Mr.  Grimm." 

Like  a  confused  and  somewhat  elderly  hen  she 
scuttled  off  in  her  husband's  wake,  while  Peter 
Grimm  stared  after  the  two  with  a  half-amused, 
half-perplexed  smile. 

"  Of  all  the  wall-eyed,  semi-anthropoid  congen 
ital  idiots,"  roared  McPherson  as  the  door  closed 
behind  them,  "  those  two  are " 

"  You're  mistaken,  Andrew,"  contradicted 
Grimm.  "  They're  kind-hearted,  good  people, 
who  spend  their  lives  and  their  substance  in  help 
ing  others.  If  you  and  they  can't  get  on  together 


106       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

It's  no  one's  fault.  Any  more  than  because 
fuchsias  and  sunflowers  won't  thrive  in  the  same 
bed.  Now  calm  down  a  bit,  old  friend,  and 
tell  me " 

"  Nothing !  It  was  nothing.  Just  nonsense. 
Don't  give  it  another  thought,  Peter.  You  said, 
yourself,  a  while  ago,  that  many  a  man  who  was 
given  up  by  the  doctors  at  twenty-five  lives  to  be 
a  hundred.  And  there  is  no  reason  on  earth  why 
you " 

"  Don't!  "  urged  Grimm.     "  I  don't  need  that. 


"  Don't  fret  yourself,  Peter,"  insisted  McPher- 
son.  "  You  mustn't  get  the  idea  that  you  are 
worse  off  than  you  really  are.  Don't  get  cold  feet 
or  let  this  thing  worry  you  to  death.  You  must 
live  for " 

"  Andrew !  "  chided  Grimm,  with  tolerant  re 
proof.  "  Are  you  so  tangled  up  that  you  think 
you're  talking  to  Willem  instead  of  to  a  full-grown 
man?  If  it's  got  to  be,  it's  got  to  be.  And  you 
were  wrong  not  to  tell  me  at  once.  That  is  the 
way  with  you  doctors.  You  are  so  in  the  habit 
of  dealing  with  hysterical  women  and  hypochon 
driacs  that  you  forget  that  a  man  is  shaped  by 
nature  to  bear  the  naked  truth  without  having  it 


BREAKING  THE  NEWS  107 

rigged  up  beforehand  in  a  lot  of  fluff  to  disguise 
its  shape.  I  think  I  understand.  I  may  live  a 
while  longer.  And  I  may  not.  The  same  thing 
could  be  said  of  every  one." 

McPherson  tried  to  speak,  then  turned  and  made 
blindly  for  the  door. 

"  Wait  a  minute!  "  called  Grimm. 

McPherson  halted.  Peter  crossed  to  where  his 
friend  stood.  With  an  effort  at  his  old-time 
whimsical  banter  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  just  want  to  promise  again,  Andrew,"  he 
said,  "  that  if  there's  anything  in  this  spook  busi 
ness  of  yours,  I'll  come  back.  And  I'll  apologise. 
Good-bye  and  good  luck." 

McPherson  wrung  his  hand,  without  speaking, 
and  strode  noisily  out. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   HAND  RELAXES 

PETER  GRIMM  walked  slowly  back  into  the  room. 
He  paused  at  his  desk  and  laid  his  hand  on  a  sheaf 
of  papers  piled  there.  He  looked  about  the  big 
sunlit  apartment  almost  as  if  he  were  trying  to 
stamp  the  image  of  each  of  its  familiar,  pleasant 
features  upon  his  memory. 

Frederik,  in  the  window  seat,  had  been  a  silent 
onlooker  to  the  strange  scene.  His  pallid,  thin 
face  was  set  in  an  aspect  of  grieved  wonder.  And 
Peter  Grimm,  meeting  his  glance,  sought  to  soften 
the  young  man's  sorrow. 

"  Brace  up,  Fritzy,"  he  said  gaily.  "  It's  noth 
ing  to  look  so  down-in-the-mouth  about.  Doctors 
are  apt  to  be  wrong.  They  guess  too  much. 
When  the  guess  is  right  they  win  a  reputation  for 
wisdom.  When  it's  wrong — as  it  is  nine  times 
out  of  eight, — they  say  they  knew  it  all  along  but 
thought  h  wasn't  wise  to  tell  the  patient  and  his 
friends.  Doctoring  is  a  grand  game, — for  the 
man  who  has  no  sense  of  humour  and  can  play  it 
with  a  straight  face.  Now  let's  forget  old  An- 

108 


THE  HAND  RELAXES  109 

drew's  croakings.  Go  and  get  me  some  change 
for  the  circus,  Fritzy.  Enough  for  Willem  and 
me  to  buy  all  the  red-ink  lemonade  and  popcorn 
and  peanuts  and  candy  we  can  eat.  Get  me  a 
whole  dollar,  anyhow.  And  then,  if  there's  any 
left  over  after  the  show,  I  can " 

"  Oh,  sir !  "  cried  Frederik  protestingly.  "  Are 
you  going  after  all,  Uncle?  And  with  that  child? 
Do  you  think  it's  wise  to ?  " 

"  Wise?  "  echoed  Peter  gleefully.  "  Of  course 
it  isn't  wise.  That's  the  glory  of  a  circus.  It's 
almost  the  one  place  where  people  can  go  and 
forget  they  were  ever  meant  to  be  wise.  And 
that's  why  I  am  going.  That  and  because  I 
wouldn't  disappoint  Willem.  Miss  a  circus? 
Miss  Billy  Miller's  Big  Show?  Not  I.  You 
may  be  too  old  for  such  follies,  Fritz.  But  I'll 
never  be." 

"  But,  sir,"  said  Frederik,  "  in  case  you  should 
be  taken  ill " 

"  I  won't  be." 

"  With  no  companion  but  that  half-witted " 

"  Willem  is  not  half-witted.  He  has  as 
much  sense  as  any  boy  of  his  age.  And  morer 
in  many  ways.  Why  do  you  dislike  him  so, 
Fritz?" 


no       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Dislike  him?  "  echoed  Frederik  uneasily.  "  I 
don't  Why  should  I?" 

"  When  you  came  back  from  Europe  and  found 
him  living  with  us,"  pursued  Grimm,  "  you  seemed 
annoyed.  He  tried  to  make  friends  with  you  at 
first.  But  you  seemed  always  to  rebuff  him. 
Why?  He's  a  lovable,  interesting  little  chap. 
One  would  think  you  had  some  strong  prejudice 
against  him — or  some  reason " 

'  Why,  of  course  not.  How  could  I  have  ? 
The  boy  is  nothing  to  me,  one  way  or  another, 
Uncle.  As  you're  so  fond  of  him,  I'd  be  glad  to 
do  anything  I  could  for  him.  As  there's  nothing 
I  can  do,  and  as  he  seems  actually  afraid  of  me, 
for  some  silly  childish  reason  or  other,  I  let  him 
alone." 

Grimm's  attention  had  already  wandered  and 
that  same  new  look  which  Willem  had  first  de 
tected  crept  back  into  his  lined  face.  But  the 
sight  of  Kathrien  coming  in  from  her  preparations 
for  the  one  o'clock  dinner  brought  him  back  to 
himself. 

"  Katje !  "  he  hailed  her.  "  Do  you  want  to 
go  to  the  circus  with  Willem  and  me?" 

"  Jal "  she  laughed  joyously.     "  Natiirlich" 

"  Goodl     One  more  member  of  the  family  who 


THE  HAND  RELAXES  in 

5s  no  more  grown  up  than  I  am!  I  want  to  see 
Mademoiselle  Zarella,  the  human  fly,  and " 

He  stopped  to  light  the  big  meerschaum  he  had 
just  filled.  Then,  going  over  to  his  favourite 
big  armchair — a  Dutch  importation  of  a  hundred 
years  earlier,  with  pulpit  back  and  high  solid  arms 
— he  settled  himself  comfortably  in  it. 

Peter  Grimm  was  tired.  And  he  wanted  to 
think  over  the  news  he  had  so  recently  heard; — to 
dissect  and  analyse  it  and,  if  need  be,  to  adjust 
himself  to  its  awesome  import.  He  sat  back  with 
half-closed  eyes,  puffing  now  and  then  mechanic 
ally  at  his  pipe,  his  veiled  glance  resting  here, 
there,  and  everywhere  among  the  surroundings  he 
loved. 

The  stable  clock  chimed  the  noon  hour.  The 
big,  slow-swinging  arms  of  the  windmill  slackened 
motion  and  stood  still.  A  hush  was  in  the  air. 
The  warm,  lazy,  wonderful  hush  of  summer  noon. 

The  midday  sunlight  gushed  in  unchecked 
through  the  wide  windows,  flooding  the  room  with 
a  glory  of  hazy  golden  light;  bathing  the  dark 
old  furniture  with  tints  of  rich  warmth;  glowing 
upon  the  roses  that  were  arranged  on  desk  and 
piano. 

The  Dutch  clock  on  the  wall  struck  twelve.     A 


ii2       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

moment  later,  the  little  clock  on  the  mantel  jing- 
lingly  endorsed  the  sentiment.  Then,  save  for 
the  drowsy  droning  of  the  bees  among  the  blossoms 
outside  the  open  windows,  there  was  no  sound  in 
all  Grimm's  world. 

Even  Kathrien  and  Frederik  seemed  silenced 
by  the  spell  of  summer  noon  magic.  The  girl  was 
looking  out  across  the  sun-kissed  gardens.  Fred 
erik  was  eyeing  her  in  complacent  satisfaction,  his 
nimble  brain  busy  with  the  tidings  that  might 
mean  so  much  for  him. 

Kathrien  turned  from  the  window  at  last  and 
seated  herself  idly  at  the  piano.  Her  slender 
fingers  drifted  half-aimlessly  over  the  keys.  Fred 
erik  lounged  over  to  the  piano  and  stood  looking 
•down  at  her. 

Presently  she  began  to  sing.  Frederik  joined 
in  the  song  and  their  young  voices  blended  sweetly 
in  the  old  Dutch  and  English  words: 

"  Van  een  twee,  een  twee,  nu 
Ste-ken  -wij  van  wal: 
The  bird  so  free  in  the  heavens 
Is  but  the  slave  of  the  nest. 
For  all  must  toil  as  God  wills  it, 
Must  laugh  and  toil  and  rest. 

"  The  rose  must  blow  in  the  gardens, 
The  bee  must  gather  its  store. 
The  cat  must  watch  the  mousehole, 
And  the  dog  must  guard  the  door! " 


THE  HAND  RELAXES  113 

As  the  voices  died  away,  Peter  Grimm  came 
out  of  his  tortuous  reverie.  He  had  reached  a 
decision.  And,  having  once  made  up  his  mind,  he 
was  not  a  man  to  delay  the  execution  of  any  plan. 

"  Katje!  "  he  called,  with  sharp  eagerness. 

Startled  at  his  unwonted  tone,  the  girl  hurried 
across  to  him. 

uYes,  Oom  Peter?"  she  asked. 

"  Get  me — the  Staaten  Bible,  please.    Quickly." 

Wondering  at  the  peremptory  tone  of  the  famil 
iar  request,  Kathrien  obeyed,  bringing  the  heavy 
old  book  to  the  table  at  his  side;  and  opening  it, 
from  long  habit,  at  the  closely  written  pages  of 
the  Grimm  family  genealogy. 

'  There !  "  said  Peter,  running  his  finger  down 
the  last  record  page  until  it  stopped  at  the  blank 
space  just  below  his  own  name. 

"  Frederik!  "  he  called.     "  Come  here." 

The  young  people  stood,  one  at  each  side  of 
his  chair,  awaiting  the  next  move,  more  than  a 
little  astonished  at  the  unwonted  haste  and  eager 
ness  in  his  tone. 

"  Katje,"  went  on  Grimm,  almost  feverishly,  as 
he  pointed  again  at  the  blank  line  beneath  his 
birth  announcement,  "  I  want  to  see  you  married 
and  happy." 


ii4      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  I  am  happy,  Uncle,"  she  protested, 
«  and " 

"  And  I  want  to  see  you  happily  married,"  he 
said. 

"  I—I  don't  know,"  she  faltered.     "  I " 

"  But  /  know  for  you,  little  girl,"  he  insisted, 
tapping  the  open  page.  "  And  under  my  name 
here,  I  want  to  see  written:  'Married: — Kathrien 
and  Frederik.'  You  will  do  as  I  wish,  dear?  It 
would  make  me  so  happy!  " 

"  Why,  Oom  Peter,"  she  faltered  in  distress, 
"  of  course  there  isn't  anything  I  wouldn't  do — 
gladly — to  make  you  happy.  But " 

"  Kitty,"  urged  Frederik,  "  you  know  I  love 
you!  You  know " 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes.  Certainly  she  does,"  snapped 
Grimm,  fretted  at  the  interruption.  "  Everybody 
knows  that." 

Grimm  caught  the  girl's  look  of  dumb  entreaty, 
misread  it,  manlike,  and  hurried  on: 

"  Come,  girl,  we've  no  time  to  be  coy.  Promise 
me  you'll  consent,  Katje.  We'll  make  it  a  June 
wedding.  We  have  ten  days  yet.  And " 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't! "  protested  the  poor  girl. 
"Really,  I  couldn't." 

"  Nonsense,  little  girl.     It's  the  easiest  thing 


THE  HAND  RELAXES  115 

in  the  world  to  get  ready  to  be  happy.  Ten  days 
is  plenty.  And  you " 

"  We  can  get  your  trousseau  later,"  put  in 
Frederik  eagerly. 

"Fritz!"  cried  the  old  man,  exasperated. 
"  Will  you  keep  out  of  this?  Who  is  managing  it? 
You  or  I?  In  ten  days,  then,  Katje?  Please!" 

;<  Why,"  she  stammered,  wretchedly  at  a  loss, 
"  if  it  will  make  you  so  happy,  Oom  Peter — if  it 
means  so  much  to  you " 

"It  does.     It  does!" 

"  I  owe  everything  to  you " 

"  Then  give  me  the  privilege  of  seeing  you  a 
happy,  contented  wife,  and  we  will  write  '  Paid ' 
across  the  bill." 

"  But  why  need  I  marry  so  terribly  soon  ?  " 

"  To  gratify  a  cranky  old  man's  whim,  Katje. 
It  means  more  to  me  than  I  can  tell  you.  Frederik 
understands." 

She  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  On  each 
face  she  read  a  fatuous  eagerness.  She  knew  the 
futility  of  pleading  with  Frederik.  She  knew  still 
more  surely  the  uselessness  of  trying  to  make  Peter 
Grimm  change  his  stubborn  wishes.  With  a  little 
catch  in  her  breath,  she  gave  up  the  hopeless, 
unequal  fight. 


"  Very  well,"  she  assented. 

"  You  will  do  it?  "  cried  Peter  Grimm  joyfully. 

"  Yes,  I — promise,"  she  answered;  and  her  voice 
was  dead. 

"  Good !  "  sighed  Grimm,  as  he  picked  up  his 
pipe  and  leaned  back  again  in  the  big  chair's  re 
cesses,  a  smile  of  utter  peace  and  contentment  irra 
diating  his  square  old  face.  "  You've  made  me 
very,  very  happy,  Katje,"  he  murmured,  his  eyes 
half-shut,  his  words  trailing  away  almost  into  in 
coherence.  "  Very,  very  happy.  I'm  happier 
than  ever  I  was  in  all  my  life — happier  than  ever 
I  dreamed  a  man  could  be.  I " 

He  ceased  to  speak.  The  light  on  his  face  grew 
brighter,  then  slowly  faded  as  a  peaceful  summer 
day  fades.  He  settled  a  little  lower  in  his  chair 
and  lay  back  there,  very  still.  The  gnarled  hand 
that  held  the  meerschaum  relaxed. 

The  pipe  fell  clattering  to  the  floor.  Frederik 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  Kathrien,  her  eyes  chanc 
ing  to  fall  on  Grimm's  face,  cried  aloud  in 
horror. 

Frederfk  followed  the  direction  of  her  gaze. 
He  sprang  toward  his  uncle,  laid  a  hand  over  the 
old  man's  heart,  and  bent  down  toward  the  still, 
grey  face  that  was  upturned  to  his. 


THE  HAND  RELAXES  117 

"Good  God,  Kitty!"  he  gasped.  "He's 
dead!  " 

,The  girl  had  already  flown  toward  the  front 
door.  Jerking  it  open  she  ran  out  on  the  steps. 
As  she  did  so,  she  caught  sight  of  McPherson 
coming  away  from  a  professional  call  at  a  house 
across  the  street. 

"Doctor!""  screamed  Kathrien  frantically. 
"Doctor!" 

McPherson,  next  moment,  had  pushed  past  her 
into  the  living-room.  Kneeling  beside  Grimm's 
body  he  made  a  swift  examination. 

As  he  rose  to  face  the  others,  Willem  burst  into 
the  house. 

"  Oom  Peter!  Oom  Peter!  "  shrilled  the  child 
happily.  "  I  got  them !  " 

"  Hush !  "  exclaimed  McPherson. 

The  boy  halted  in  the  doorway,  looking  in 
puzzled  dismay  at  the  huddled  form  in  the  chair. 

"  What — what  is ?  "  he  began. 

"  He  is  dead,"  replied  Frederik  shortly. 

Willem  stood  aghast  for  a  second,  while  the  curt 
announcement  sank  into  his  senses.  Then  in  a 
burst  of  angry,  rebellious  wonder,  the  child  cried: 

"  Dead?  He  can't  be.  He  can't!  Why,  I've 
got  our  circus  tickets  I  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AFTERWARD 

GRIMM  MANOR  was  in  mourning.  And,  far  more 
to  the  dead  man's  honour,  Grimm  Manor  was 
mourning. 

The  last  of  the  ancient  line  was  dead.  The 
Grimms  had  been  the  ruling  spirits  in  the  drowsy 
little  up-State  town  for  more  than  two  centuries. 
From  father  to  son,  the  hierarchy  had  been  handed 
down. 

In  days  when  the  district  was  a  wilderness  and 
when  the  Grimms  fought  wild  animal  and  Indian, 
and  in  the  days  when  it  was  a  prosperous  suburb 
and  the  Grimms  fought  "  scale  "  and  locust,  it  had 
been  the  same: — ever  a  Grimm  had  swayed  the 
little  community. 

Quiet  in  spite  of  his  eccentric  ways  and  dress, 
Peter  Grimm  had  been  known  chiefly  as  a  kindly 
neighbour  and  a  shrewd  business  man.  But  now, 
after  his  death,  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  people 
came  forward  with  queer  stories  of  his  private 
dealings. 

There  was  a  crotchety  old  Civil  War  veteran, 

118 


AFTERWARD  119 

for  instance,  who  lived  "  on  the  Mountain  "  and 
who  was  a  reputed  miser.  He  now  told  how  Peter 
Grimm  had  eked  out  his  $8  a  month  pension  for 
the  past  forty  years  and  had  made  it  possible  for 
him  to  live  in  comfort.  A  crippled  woman  who, 
with  her  four  children,  had  at  one  time  seemed 
likely  to  become  a  public  charge  and  who  had  been 
relieved  in  the  nick  of  time  by  a  legacy,  now  told 
the  real  source  of  that  providential  "  legacy." 

A  farm  boy  who  had  yearned  to  study  engineer 
ing  and  who  had  been  helped  unexpectedly  by  a 
secret  fund,  revealed  the  name  of  the  fund's 
donor. 

A  market  gardener  whose  house,  barns,  and 
horses  had  been  destroyed  by  fire,  proclaimed  that 
insurance  had  not  enabled  him  to  make  good  his 
loss.  For  he  had  not  been  insured.  Peter  Grimm 
had  set  him  on  his  feet  again.  And  as  in  every 
other  case,  Grimm  had  imposed  but  one  condition 
upon  the  gift: — absolute  secrecy. 

These  were  but  a  few  cases  out  of  dozens  that 
were  made  known  within  the  week  after  Grimm's 
death. 

The  little  stone  church  of  Grimm  Manor  was 
packed  to  the  doors  on  the  day  that  six  big 
awkward  men  with  tear  blotched  faces  bore  a 


120       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

silent  burden  up  its  aisle.  A  burden  so  covered 
with  masses  of  fragrant  blossoms  as  to  blot  out 
its  gruesome  oblong  shape.  The  flowers  were 
from  Peter  Grimm's  own  gardens,  then  in  the  riot 
of  their  June-tide  glory. 

And  so,  covered  and  drifted  over  with  the  glow 
ing  blooms  he  loved  so  well,  the  dead  man  went 
to  his  burial. 

In  the  Grimm  pew,  with  its  silver  plate  and  highr 
box-like  sides,  sat  Frederik,  Kathrien,  and  old 
Marta.  The  heir  was  as  woe  begone  of  face  and 
as  crassly  sombre  of  raiment  as  even  the  most 
captious  could  have  desired.  The  unostentatious 
pressure  of  his  black  bordered  handkerchief  to  his 
eyes  once  or  twice  during  the  service  attested  to  a 
sorrow  that  could  not  be  kept  wholly  within  stoic 
bounds. 

Yet,  oddly  enough,  it  was  Kathrien, — rather 
than  Frederik  or  the  frankly  blubbering  old  house 
keeper, — on  whom  people's  eyes  most  often  rested 
— rested  and  then  dimmed  with  a  haze  of  sym 
pathy.  The  girl  did  not  weep.  Her  face  was 
very  pale.  But  it  was  set  and  expressionless. 
Save  for  its  big  eyes  it  seemed  a  lifeless  mask. 
The  eyes  alone  were  alive.  And  never  for  one 
instant  did  they  move  from  the  flower  banked 


AFTERWARD  121 

casket  in  front  of  the  altar  rail.  They  were  tear 
less.  But  in  their  soft  depths  lurked  the  awed, 
unbelieving  horror  of  a  little  child's  that  is  for  the 
first  time  brought  face  to  face  with  the  Black  Half 
of  life. 

Kathrien  was  not  in  mourning.  Her  simple 
white  dress  caused  no  comment.  For,  by  this 
time,  it  was  known  she  was  acting  on  what  she 
believed  to  be  Grimm's  wishes.  The  dead  man 
had  ever  had  a  loathing  of  all  the  hideous  visible 
trappings  of  grief.  He  had  been  wont  to  hold 
forth  on  his  aversion  after  every  funeral  he  had 
been  forced  to  attend. 

"  When  it  comes  my  time  to  fall  asleep,"  he 
had  said,  during  one  of  these  Philippics,  "  I  don't 
want  anybody  that  cares  for  me  to  make  death 
horrible  by  going  around  dressed  like  an  under 
taker.  I'd  as  soon  expect  a  mother  to  put  on 
black  after  she  had  kissed  her  child  good-night. 
There'd  be  just  as  much  sense  in  it.  If  it's  done 
because  we're  grieved  to  think  where  our  friends 
have  gone, — well  and  good.  But  if  we're  willing 
to  give  them  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  why  dress 
as  if  we  were  sorry  for  them?  " 

Wherefore,  Kathrien  was  wearing  one  of  the 
white  summer  dresses  he  had  loved.  She  had  tim- 


122       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

idly  suggested  that  Frederik  also  honour  the  dead 
man's  prejudices.  But  the  sad,  reproachful  look 
he  had  bent  upon  her  at  her  first  hint  of  the  sub 
ject  had  silenced  the  girl  and  had  left  her  half- 
convicted  of  heartlessness  because  of  her  own 
avoidance  of  black. 

Willem  was  not  at  the  funeral.  After  that  first 
strange  outburst  on  learning  that  Grimm  was  dead, 
the  child  had  said  no  word  all  day.  At  night 
when  Kathrien  came  to  take  him  to  bed,  she  found 
him  in  a  high  fever. 

Dr.  McPherson  had  been  sent  for,  and  had  ex 
amined  the  child  closely,  but  could  find  no  palpable 
cause  for  the  malady. 

"  He's  an  odd  little  fellow,"  he  told  Kathrien. 
"  Like  no  other  boy  I've  ever  known.  The  Scotch 
call  such  children  *  fey '  and  prophesy  short  lives 
for  them.  And  the  prophecy  usually  comes  true. 
There's  always  been  something  psychic  about  Wil 
lem.  A  hypnotist  or  a  medium  would  look  on 
him  as  a  treasure. 

"  All  the  diagnosis  I  can  make  is  that  Peter's 
death  caused  a  shock  to  the  boy's  never  strong 
nerves  and  that  the  shock  has  caused  the  fever. 
Keep  him  in  bed  for  a  few  days.  He'll  probably 
come  around  all  right.  There  doesn't  seem  to 


AFTERWARD  123 

be  anything  really  serious — except  that  in  a  con 
stitution  like  his  everything  is  apt  to  be  more  or 
less  serious." 

After  the  funeral,  life  went  on  outwardly  much 
as  before  at  the  Grimm  home.  The  only  change 
was  the  impalpable  one  which  occurs  in  a  room 
when  a  clock  stops. 

And,  in  fulfilment  of  Peter  Grimm's  last  request, 
preparations  for  the  "  June  wedding  "  were  begun. 
It  was  Frederik  who  tactfully  broached  the  theme. 
Kathrien,  after  a  look  of  helpless  fear,  nodded 
acquiescence. 

"  I  promised  him,"  she  said  faintly.  "  And 
he  died  while  the  promise  was  still  scarcely  spoken. 
The  smile  of  happiness  it  brought  to  his  dear  old 
face  was  on  it  when  they  laid  him  to  sleep.  I 
couldn't  break  that  promise." 

"  And  you  wouldn't,  if  you  could.  I  know 
that,"  said  Frederik  tenderly.  "  Dear  one,  I 
would  not  urge  the  wedding  at  a  time  like  this  if 
it  had  not  been  his  last  wish  that  we  should  be 
married  this  very  month." 

"  Yes,"  she  agreed  lifelessly.  "  It  was  his  wish. 
And  we  must  do  it." 

And  with  this  unenthusiastic  assent  Frederik 
was  forced  to  be  satisfied.  So  the  preparations 


124       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

were  pushed  on  with  a  furtive,  almost  apologetic, 
haste. 

Mrs.  Batholommey  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
the  affair  with  a  lugubrious  zest  that  would  have 
sickened  Kathrien  had  it  not  taken  so  much  of 
the  burden  of  arrangement-making  off  her  own 
tired  young  shoulders. 

It  was  to  Frederik  and  Mrs.  Batholommey  that 
every  one  at  length  turned  for  directions  in  de 
tails  for  the  wedding,  not  to  the  still-faced  girl 
who  seemed  to  know  or  to  care  nothing  about 
the  way  matters  were  to  be  conducted. 

And  this  gave  Kathrien  surcease, — a  breathing 
space  wherein  to  try  to  think  with  a  brain  from 
which  sorrow  had  driven  the  power  of  clear 
thought;  a  time  to  plan,  to  realise,  to  remember, 
— with  faculties  too  numb  to  carry  out  the  will 
power's  intent.  The  days  crept  past  her  like 
shadows.  And  the  wedding  day  drew  near.  But 
still  she  could  not  wholly  rouse  herself  from  the 
dumb  inertia  that  gripped  her. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  EVE  OF  A  WEDDING 

TEN  days  later  the  household,  which  had  been 
Peter  Grimm's  and  was  his  no  longer,  had  suffi 
ciently  adjusted  itself  to  new  conditions  to  en 
deavour  to  carry  out  his  dearest  wish — the  mar 
riage  of  Kathrien  to  Frederik. 

It  was  near  the  close  of  a  rainy  afternoon,  and 
Mrs.  Batholommey  (installed  in  the  house  as 
temporary  chaperone  and  adviser  to  Kathrien) 
was  busily  engaged  in  drilling  four  little  girls 
from  her  own  Sunday-school  class  to  sing  the 
Bridal  Chorus  from  Lohengrin. 

Standing  at  the  piano,  and  playing  with  a  sure, 
determined  touch,  she  gazed  over  her  shoulder 
at  the  children  and  sang  vigorously,  nodding  her 
head  to  emphasise  the  tempo: 

"  Faithful  and  true  we  lead  ye  forth 
Where  love  triumphant  shall  lead  the  way. 
Bright  star  of  love,  flower  of  the  earth, 
Shine  on  ye  both  on  your  love's  perfect  day." 

As  the  last  line  was  reached,  Mrs.  Batholommey 

raised  her  hand  in  a  signal  to  stop. 

125 


126       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  That's  better.  Now,  children — not  too  loud. 
Remember,  this  is  a  very  quiet  wedding.  You're 
to  be  here  at  noon  to-morrow.  You  mustn't  speak 
as  you  enter  the  room,  and  take  your  places  near 
the  piano.  Now  we'll  sing  as  though  the  bride 
were  here.  I'll  represent  the  bride." 

Mrs.  Batholommey  pointed  at  Kathrien's  door 
as  she  spoke,  and  started  toward  it  with  subdued 
but  undeniable  enthusiasm. 

"  Miss  Kathrien  will  come  down  the  stairs 
from  her  room,  I  suppose — and  will  stand — I 
don't  know  where — but  you've  got  to  stop  when 
I  look  at  you.  Watch  me  now " 

Bending  her  knees,  she  stood  bobbing  up  and 
down  in  time  to  the  children's  singing,  until 
she  caught  the  step,  then  started  down  the 
stairs,  unconsciously  raising  and  lowering  her 
dress  skirt  to  emphasise  the  rhythm  of  the 
song. 

Across  the  room  she  marched,  head  bent  and 
eyes  cast  down,  while  the  children  repeated  the 
familiar  verse  over  and  over. 

Having  marched  herself  into  a  corner  she  halted 
and  faced  the  little  singers.  At  that  moment, 
however,  Frederik  entered,  and  the  rehearsal  was 
over  for  the  day.  Mrs.  Batholommey  quickly 


THE  EVE  OF  A  WEDDING  127 

left  her  role  of  bride  and  dismissed  the  chorus 
with  many  warnings  and  instructions. 

"  That  will  do,  children.  Hurry  home  between 
showers  and  don't  forget  what  I've  told  you  about 
to-morrow!  " 

While  she  busied  herself  helping  them  into  their 
rubbers  and  waterproofs,  Frederik  puffed  at  a 
cigarette  in  silence  and  was  seemingly  without  the 
slightest  interest  in  what  was  going  on  around 
him.  A  great  change  had  taken  place  in  his  de 
meanour  since  his  uncle's  death.  He  had  come 
into  his  own.  The  place,  and  everything,  includ 
ing  Kathrien  herself,  would  be  his.  He  did  not 
even  try  to  veil  his  feeling  of  mastership.  Walk 
ing  over  to  his  uncle's  desk-chair,  he  sat  down  and 
began  to  pull  off  his  gloves,  looking  at  the  children 
a  trifle  superciliously. 

Mrs.  Batholommey  felt  it  necessary  to  explain, 
and  murmured  with  deprecatory  haste: 

"  My  Sunday-school  children.  I  thought  your 
dear  uncle  wouldn't  like  it  if  he  knew  there  wasn't 
going  to  be  any  singing  during  the  marriage  cere 
mony  to-morrow.  I  know  how  bright  and  cheery 
he  liked  everything,"  she  purred.  "  If  he  were 
alive  it  would  be  a  church  wedding!  Dear, 
happy,  charitable  soul!" 


128       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

As  she  spoke  she  handed  the  children  their 
umbrellas  and,  exchanging  good-byes,  the  little 
choir  hurried  out  into  the  rain. 

"Where's  Kathrien?"  said  Frederik. 

"  Still  upstairs  with  Willem,"  answered  Mrs. 
Batholommey,  glancing  up  toward  the  little  boy's 
room  apprehensively  as  she  spoke,  and  lowering 
her  voice  a  bit. 

Frederik  made  an  inarticulate  sound  of  annoy 
ance,  and  putting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  took 
out  two  steamer  tickets  and  examined  them.  His 
one  idea  was  to  get  away  from  the  simple,  quaint 
surroundings  that  his  uncle  had  kept  and  beauti 
fied  for  him  in  the  fond,  proud  hope  that  his 
nephew  would  love  and  care  for  the  place  as  he 
had  done. 

To  Frederik  it  meant  nothing  but  a  humdrum 
existence,  full  of  annoying  detail.  The  money  for 
which  it  stood  had  been  his  goal — that,  and  Kath 
rien,  his  uncle's  very  brightest  flower — a  flower 
which  he  was  about  to  tear  up  by  the  roots  and 
transplant  to  foreign  soil. 

Mrs.  Batholommey  sat  down  in  the  big  chair 
by  the  fire,  and  took  up  her  crochet  work  with  a 
sigh.  Occasionally  she  looked  at  Frederik,  and 
finally  she  spoke. 


THE  EVE  OF  A  WEDDING  129 

"  Of  course  I'm  glad  to  stay  here  and  chaperone 
Kathrien;  but  poor  Mr.  Batholommey  has  been 
alone  at  the  parsonage  for  ten  days — ever  since 
your  dear  uncle — it  will  be  ten  days  to-morrow 
since  he  di — oh,  by  the  way,  some  mail  came  for 
your  uncle.  I  put  it  in  the  drawer." 

Frederik  did  not  trouble  to  answer.  He  merely 
nodded. 

"  Curious  how  long  before  people  know  a  man's 
gone,"  soliloquised  Mrs.  Batholommey. 

Opening  the  drawer  carelessly  Frederik  took 
out  his  uncle's  mail — two  business  letters  and  one 
in  a  plain  blue  envelope.  He  looked  at  them  a 
moment,  put  them  down,  and  proceeded  to  light 
another  cigarette.  Then  he  rose,  and  picking 
up  his  gloves  looked  toward  the  office. 

"  Did  Hartmann  come?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Batholommey,  holding 
up  a  corner  of  the  shawl  she  was  crocheting,  and 
surveying  it  critically.  With  a  coquettish  glance 
toward  the  bridegroom,  she  hummed  a  little  bit 
of  the  wedding  march. 

Frederik  paid  no  attention  to  her,  but,  turning, 
gazed  out  of  the  window.  Mrs.  Batholommey, 
however,  as  the  wife  of  a  clergyman,  was  not  used 
to  being  ignored;  moreover,  she  was  naturally 


130       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

of  a  persevering  disposition — and,  added  to  that, 
she  had  something  on  her  mind  and  could  keep 
still  about  it  no  longer. 

"  Er "  (Mrs.  Batholommey  coughed  ex 
pressively.)  "  By  the  way,  Mr.  Batholommey 
was  very  much  excited  when  he  heard  that  your 
uncle  had  left  a  personal  memorandum  concerning 
us.  We're  anxious  to  have  it  read." 

She  might  as  well  have  addressed  herself  to  a 
stone.  Frederik  made  no  sort  of  a  response. 
Instead,  he  lounged  over  to  the  piano  and  exam 
ined  some  of  the  wedding  presents  piled  up  there. 

Mrs.  Batholommey  rose  with  decision  and  ap 
proached  the  piano. 

"  We  are  anxious  to  have  it  read!  " 

No  answer. 

With  a  scorching  glance  at  Frederik,  Mrs. 
Batholommey,  her  work  gathered  in  a  fluffy  white 
bunch  in  her  arms,  marched  quickly  out  of  the 
room  and  slammed  the  door. 

A  moment  later  James,  newly  returned  from 
the  South,  entered  the  room  from  the  office.  Fred 
erik  had  found  it  impossible  to  get  on  without 
him  in  the  matter  of  winding  up  his  uncle's  busi 
ness  and  had  sent  an  urgent  and  somewhat  per 
emptory  call  for  his  immediate  return. 


THE  EVE  OF  A  WEDDING  131 

As,  just  then,  he  needed  James,  he  was  rather 
more  civil  to  him  than  usual;  but,  from  the  first, 
he  did  not  fail  to  sound  the  employer-employee 
note. 

He  came  forward  and  shook  hands  cordially. 

"  Good-afternoon.  Good-afternoon.  How  do 
you  do,  Hartmann?  I'm  very  glad  you  consented 
to  come  back  and  straighten  out  a  few  matters. 
Naturally,  there's  some  business  correspondence  I 
don't  understand." 

"  I've  already  gone  over  some  of  it,"  answered 
Hartmann. 

"  I  appreciate  the  fact  that  you  came  over  on 
my  uncle's  account." 

So  saying,  Frederik  turned  away  with  a  cere 
monious  bow. 

Hartmann  went  over  to  the  desk  and  took  a 
letter  from  the  file.  Then  he  said  coldly: 

"  Oh,  I  see  that  Hicks  of  Rochester  has  written 
you.  I  hope  you  don't  intend  to  sell  out  your 
uncle  before  his  monument  is  set  up." 

Frederik  turned  toward  Hartmann  and  put 
down  his  cigarette. 

"I?  Sell  out?  My  intention  is  to  carry  out 
every  wish  of  my  dear  uncle's." 

James,  at  this  moment  catching  sight  of  Fred- 


132       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

erik's  black-bordered  handkerchief,  said  sceptic 
ally: 

"  I  hope  so,"  and  vanished  into  the  office  with 
a  handful  of  papers. 

He  wished  as  few  words  as  possible  with  Fred- 
erik.  He  could  not  bear  to  look  at  him — for  the 
thought  that  to-morrow  Kathrien  was  to  marry 
the  man  and  go  out  of  his  own  life  for  all  time 
was  almost  more  than  he  could  stand.  He  had 
watched  her  grow  from  a  lovely  little  girl  to  a 
lovelier  woman — he  understood  her  as  did  no  one 
else,  not  even  Oom  Peter,  who,  too,  had  loved 
her  so  devotedly. 

And  he  felt  that  she  loved  him,  though  no  word 
had  ever  been  said.  And  now — he  must  let  her 
go — he  must  let  this  worthless  fellow  take  her — 
to  a  life  of  unhappiness;  for  knowing  the  sweet 
soul  of  Kathrien,  who  could  doubt  that  such  a 
marriage  would  bring  her  unhappiness? 

Frederik's  eyes  rested  thoughtfully  on  Hart- 
mann's  retreating  figure.  Then  a  slight  sound 
attracted  his  attention,  and  he  looked  up  in  time 
to  see  Kathrien  coming  downstairs.  Her  simple 
white  dress  held  no  touch  of  mourning,  yet  she 
was  a  wistful,  pathetic  little  figure,  full  of  sadness. 

"Ah,  Kitty!     See "  (taking  out  the  tickets 


THE  EVE  OF  A  WEDDING  133 

as  he  spoke).  "Here's  the  steamship  tickets  for 
Europe.  I've  arranged  everything." 

He  took  a  step  forward  to  meet  her. 

"  Well,  to-morrow's  our  wedding  day,  lievling, 
yes?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Kathrien  in  a  breathless  way. 

"  It'll  be  a  June  wedding,"  Frederik  went  on, 
"  just  as  Oom  Peter  wished." 

Kathrien  forced  herself  to  speak  brightly. 

"  Yes — just  as  he  wished.  Everything  is  just 

as  he "  she  broke  off  suddenly  with  a  change 

of  manner,  and  gazed  at  Frederik  with  beseeching 
earnestness. 

"  Frederik,  I  don't  want  to  go  away.  I  don't 
want  to  take  this  journey  to  Europe.  If  only  I 
could  stay  quietly  in — in  my  own  dear  home !  " 


CHAPTER  X 

A  WASTED  PLEA 

FREDERIK  concealed  his  annoyance  as  best  he 
could,  and  smiled  affectionately  at  the  little  bride- 
to-be,  trying  to  coax  her  out  of  her  mood.  He 
looked  around  the  familiar  room  a  bit  scorn 
fully. 

"  Huh !  This  old  cottage  with  its  candles  and 
lamps  and  shadows!  What  does  it  amount  to? 
Wait  until  I've  shown  you  the  home  I  want  you 
to  have — the  house  Mrs.  Frederik  Grimm  should, 
live  in." 

He  patted  her  arm  once  or  twice  as  he  spoke, 
to  give  further  weight  to  his  words;  but  they 
seemed  lost  on  Kathrien.  Her  eyes  grew  more 
and  more  troubled  and  her  sweet  face  increasingly 
wistful. 

"  I  don't  want  to  leave  this  house,"  she  said. 
"  I  don't  want  any  home  but  this.  I  should  be 
wretched  if  you  took  me  away." 

As  she  spoke,  she  glanced  helplessly  at  the  fresh 
flowers  on  Oom  Peter's  desk,  placed  there  daily 
by  her  faithful,  loving  little  fingers. 

134 


A  WASTED  PLEA  135 

"  I'm  sure  Oom  Peter  would  like  to  think  of 
me  as  here,  among  our  dear,  dear  flowers !  " 

Frederik  tried  to  reassure  her  as  one  does  a 
child,  and  answered  soothingly: 

"  Of  course — but  what  you  need  is  a  change, 
yes?" 

Kathrien  turned  away  and  traced  a  pattern  on 
the  newel  post  with  her  slender  fingers.  She 
found  it  very  hard  to  talk.  After  a  moment,  she 
went  on: 

"  I — I've  always  wanted  to  please  Oom  Peter. 
— I  always  felt  that  I  owed  everything  to  him — 
if  he  had  lived  and  I  could  have  seen  his  happiness 
over  our  marriage,  that  would  have  made  me 
happy,  almost.  But  he's  gone — and  every  day — 
the  longer  he's  away  from  me,  the  more  I  see 
for  myself  that  I  don't  feel  toward  you  as  I 
ought.  You  know  it.  But  I  want  to  tell  you 
again.  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  marry  you. 
Only — I'm  afraid  I  can't  make  you  happy." 

Looking  at  him  with  sorrowful,  perplexed  eyes, 
she  went  on : 

"  It's  so  disloyal  to  speak  like  this  after  I  prom 
ised  him;  but,  Frederik,  it's  true" 

Frederik  found  it  hard  to  keep  his  patience;  yet 
he  continued  to  reason  with  Kathrien  in  a  voice 


136       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

even  gentler  than  before,  though  with  an  accent 
of  finality  in  it  that  she  could  not  disregard  as  he 
said: 

"  But  you  did  promise  Uncle  Peter  you'd  marry 
me,  yes?  " 

Her  answering  "  Yes  "  was  barely  audible. 

Frederik  continued  insistently: 

"And  he  died  believing  you,  yes?" 

Kathrien  merely  nodded;  she  could  not  look  at 
him,  could  not  speak.  After  a  moment  she  went 
on,  her  eyes  still  averted: 

"  That's  what  makes  me  try  to  live  up  to  it. 
Still,  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  if  Oom  Peter 
knew  how  hard  everything  seems — how  alone  I 
feel " 

"  You  are  not  alone  while  I  am  here,  lieu- 
ling " 

Kathrien   smiled  pathetically. 

"  You  don't  understand,  Frederik.  You  mean 
to  be  kind — and  you  are  kind.  And  I  thank  you 
for  it;  but  if  only  my  mother  had  lived !  As  long 
as  dear  Oom  Peter  was  here  he  was  father,  mother, 
everything  to  me.  I  felt  no  lack;  but  now — oh, 
I  want  my  mother  to  turn  to " 

The  girl's  eyes  were  suddenly  suffused  with  tears. 


A  WASTED  PLEA  137 

"  Don't  you  see?  Try  to  know  how  I  feel. — 
Try  to  understand " 

Suddenly  Frederik  stopped  her  torrent  of  words. 
He  took  her  in  his  arms  before  she  realised  it, 
and,  kissing  her,  he  said: 

"  Naturlich — I  understand.  I  love  you — and 
in  time — Wait!  You  shall  see!  You  must  not 
worry,  sweetheart.  These  things  will  come  right, 
all  in  good  time." 

But  Kathrien  had  released  herself  with  nervous 
if  quiet  haste. 

"  Willem  is  feeling  so  much  better,"  she  said, 
with  a  change  of  tone  to  the  ordinary. 

"  Tel " 

With  his  usual  display  of  annoyance  at  the 
mention  of  Willem,  Frederik  left  Kathrien  and 
walked  over  to  Oom  Peter's  desk,  where  he 
began  to  pick  up  and  lay  down  the  various  articles 
strewn  about  its  surface;  without  in  the  least  real 
ising  what  he  was  doing. 

"  I  do  hope  that  child  will  be  kept  out  of  the 
way — to-morrow,"  he  said  roughly. 

"Why?" 

«  Oh— oh,  I " 

Frederik  found  it  hard  to  tell  why. 


138       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  You  have  always  disliked  poor  little  Willem, 
haven't  you?"  demanded  Kathrien. 

»  N— no "  answered  Frederik.    "  But " 

His  nervousness  was  very  evident  as  he  still 
moved  fussily  about  the  desk. 

"  Yes,  you  have,"  continued  Kathrien  calmly. 
"  I  remember  how  angry  you  were  when  you  came 
back  from  Leyden  University  and  found  him  liv 
ing  here.  How  could  you  help  being  drawn  to  a 
little  blue-eyed,  golden-haired  baby  such  as  he  was 
then? — Only  five  years  old,  and  such  a  darling! 
He  won  us  all  at  once,  except  you.  And  in  all 
the  three  years  he  has  been  here,  we've  only  grown 
more  and  more  fond  of  him  each  day.  You  love 
children — you  go  out  of  your  way  to  pick  up  a 
child  and  pet  it.  Why  do  you  dislike  Anne 
Marie's  little  boy?" 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Frederik  impatiently,  "  he  has  a 
way  of  staring  at  people  as  though  he  had  a  per 
petual  question  on  his  lips " 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  vivid  flash  of  light 
ning  and  a  long  roll  of  thunder. 

"  Oh,  a  little  child !  "  said  Kathrien  reproach 
fully.  "  He  has  only  kindness  from  everybody. 
Why  shouldn't  he  look  at  one?" 

''And  then  his  mother!"  went  on   Frederik, 


A  WASTED  PLEA  139 

gazing  into  the  fire,  while  the  rain,  steadily  in 
creasing  with  the  nearer  approach  of  thunder  and 
lightning,  blotted  away  the  pleasant  landscape  out 
side  the  windows. 

"  Uncle  and  I  loved  Anne  Marie,  and  we  had  for 
given  her.  Why  should  you  blame  her  so  bitterly? 
Surely  she  has  suffered  enough  to  expiate " 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  hard  upon  any  woman. 
I've  never  seen  her  since  she  left  the  house,  but — 
Hear  that  rain  !  It's  pouring  again !  The  third 
day.  You're  wise  to  have  a  fire  in  here.  This 
old  house  would  be  damp  otherwise  in  a  long 
storm  like  this.  By  the  way,  Hartmann  is  back 
for  a  few  hours  to  straighten  things  out — I'm 
going  to  see  what  he's  doing." 

Frederik  went  up  to  Kathrien,  and  putting  his 
arms  about  her,  led  her  up  to  the  piano,  saying: 

"  Kitty,  have  you  seen  all  the  wedding  presents  ? 
Wait  for  me  a  while  here  and  look  at  them  till 
I  come  back.  I'll  be  with  you  again  in  a  few 
minutes." 

Smiling,  and  giving  her  cheek  a  tender  pat,  he 
left  her  alone. 

As  she  stood  there,  surrounded  by  all  her  gay 
presents,  she  looked  anything  but  the  picture  of  a 
happy  bride.  Giving  no  thoughts  to  the  gifts,  she 


140      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

stood,  motionless,  her  eyes  slowly  filling  with  tears. 

Suddenly  the  outer  door  slammed,  and  a  mo 
ment  afterward  Dr.  McPherson  entered.  His 
tweed  shawl  and  cap  proclaimed  the  recent  vio 
lence  of  the  storm  as  he  hurriedly  took  them  off 
and  hung  them  up,  and  placed  his  soaked  um 
brella  in  the  rack.  With  a  book  under  his  arm, 
he  came  quickly  toward  the  girl,  saying: 

"  Good-evening,   Kathrien.     How's  Willem  ?  " 

Kathrien  tried  to  hide  her  tears;  but  it  was 
impossible  to  elude  the  keen  eyes  of  Dr.  McPher 
son.  In  one  quick  glance  he  caught  the  situation. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  he  said  curtly. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Kathrien  in  a  voice  whose 
tremble  she  could  not  control;  yet  bravely  wiping 
away  her  tears  as  she  spoke.  "  I  was  only  think 
ing — I  was  hoping  that  those  we  love — and  lose — • 
can't  see  us  here.  I'm  beginning  to  believe  there's 
not  much  happiness  in  this  world." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  with  affectionate  re 
proof,  much  as  if  she  had  been  a  naughty  child. 

"  Why,  you  little  snip !  "  he  said  whimsically, 
as  he  pulled  her  toward  him  determinedly.  "  I've 
a  notion  to  chastise  you !  Talking  like  that  with 
the  whole  of  life  before  you !  Such  cluttered  non 
sense  !  " 


A  WASTED  PLEA  141 

Still  talking  he  started  toward  the  stairs  and 
Willem's  room,  and  Kathrien  sank  into  a  chair; 
but  the  doctor  changed  his  mind,  turned,  and  came 
back  to  her  again. 

"  Kathrien,  I  understand  you've  not  a  penny  to 
your  name,"  he  said  gruffly,  "  unless  you  marry 
Frederik.  He  has  inherited  you — along  with  the 
orchids  and  the  tulips." 

He  put  his  arm  around  her  with  a  gentle,  pro 
tective  movement  as  he  went  on: 

"  Don't  let  that  influence  you.  If  Peter's  plans 
bind  you — and  you  look  as  if  they  did — my  door's 
open.  Don't  let  the  neighbours'  opinions  and  a 
few  silver  spoons,"  glancing  towards  the  wedding 
gifts,  "  stand  in  the  way  of  your  whole  future." 

Having  thus  opened  his  warm  Scotch  heart  and 
his  home  to  the  motherless  girl,  it  was  indicative 
of  his  character  that  he  should  give  her  no  chance 
to  thank  him.  Before  she  could  speak,  he  had 
run  up  the  stairs,  placed  his  cigar  on  the  little 
table  in  the  upper  hall,  and  hurried  into  Willem's 
room. 

Outside  the  sky  grew  blacker  and  blacker,  dark 
ening  the  room  where  Kathrien  sat.  Suddenly  she 
rose  from  her  chair,  and  stretching  out  her  arms, 
gave  a  cry  that  was  dragged  from  her  very  soul. 


142       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Oh !  Oom  Peter,  Oom  Peter,  why  did  you 
do  it?  Why  did  you  do  it?  " 

She  looked  all  at  once  a  woman.  No  longer 
the  carefree,  happy  girl  she  had  been  but  a  few 
short  weeks  before.  Standing  thus,  her  beautiful 
face  full  of  agony,  she  did  not  hear  Marta  as  she 
came  in  from  the  dining-room  to  carry  upstairs 
the  dainty  wedding  clothes  for  the  morrow — a 
mass  of  filmy,  fluffy  white,  laid  carefully  over 
both  arms. 

At  first  Marta  did  not  see  her  in  the  dim  yellow 
gloom  of  the  large  room;  but  a  moment  later,  in 
alarm,  she  dropped  the  clothes  in  a  careful  heap  on 
a  chair,  and  ran  to  Kathrien  as  fast  as  her  stocky 
figure  and  many  Dutch  petticoats  would  allow. 

"  Och,"  she  cried  sympathetically.  At  her  pity 
ing  touch,  Kathrien  suddenly  buried  her  face  on 
Marta's  broad  breast,  and  broke  into  convulsive 
sobs.  Marta  hushed  her  as  she  would  a  baby, 
with  many  sweet,  caressing  Dutch  words. 

"Sh!  Sh!  Lievling,  Sh!  Sh!  Old  Marta  is 

here!  Cry  all  you  want  to 'Twill  do  you 

good!  A  bride  to  cry  on  her  wedding  eve! 
Who  ever  heard  such  things!  You  should  be 
happy — the  good  Mynheer  Grimm  would  wish 
his  child  happy  on  her  wedding  eve !  Sh !  You 


A  WASTED  PLEA  143 

will  have  a  fine  day  to-morrow,  for  it  storms  to 
night — a  good  sign !  You  must  have  a  bright  face 
to  show  your  husband,  and  a  face  of  happiness  I 
Not  a  swollen  little  face — like  this !  What  a  face 
to  take  to  a  bridegroom !  Marta  has  fixed  the 
dress — 'tis  wonderful !  See  there  over  the  chair, 
so  filmy — like  a  cloud — you  will  be  like  a  lily  in 
a  cloud  of  dew  to-morrow.  Think  how  beautiful  1 
Do  not  spoil  it  all,  lievling!  Be  happy,  Kathrien, 
Kathrien  wees,  bedard,  kindje  lievling.  Be  happy 
among  those  who  love  you  so !  " 

Comforted  by  Marta's  soothing  words,  and  re 
lieved  by  a  good  cry,  Kathrien  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  There,  there,  Marta,"  she  said,  drawing  a 
long,  quivering  breath,  "  others  have  troubles  too, 
haven't  they?" 

Marta  nodded  her  head  vigorously. 

"  Ach!  "  she  sighed.  "  Gut—Ja!  Others  have 
their  troubles !  " 

Kathrien  kissed  Marta  gently,  then  said: 

"  I  had  hoped,  Marta,  that  Anne  Marie  would 
have  heard  of  uncle,  and  come  back  to  us  at  this 
time — you  are  so  brave — you  never  complain — 
Poor  Marta !  " 

Once  more  Marta  sighed. 

"  If  it  could  have  brought  us  all  together  once 


144       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

more — but  no  message — nothing — I  cannot  under 
stand — my  only  child." 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  storm.  The  rain 
pounded  on  the  shingles  and  pattered  loudly 
against  the  windows.  The  wind  howled  around 
the  eves,  and  the  old  house  rattled  and  shook  in 
spite  of  its  solid  foundation. 

Marta,  still  brooding  over  Kathrien  like  a 
motherly  hen  over  her  chicken,  shuddered  at  the 
rattling  of  the  window  blinds. 

From  the  midst  of  the  general  tumult  a  new 
sound  detached  itself — a  sharp  double  rap  from 
the  old-fashioned  knocker. 

"Och!"  cried  Marta.  "It  must  be  Pastor 
and  the  others!  You  don't  feel  much  like  seeing 
visitors,  my  lamb.  Run  away  now  before  I 
let  'em  in — and  bathe  your  eyes  in  lavender 
water." 

She  hurried  to  the  front  door,  and  Kathrien, 
at  once  brought  to  herself,  hastened  upstairs  to 
her  room. 

As  Marta  opened  wide  the  door,  Mr.  Bathol- 
ommey  and  Colonel  Lawton  (Peter  Grimm's 
former  lawyer)  seemed  fairly  blown  into  the 
hall. 

"  Good-evening,    Marta,"   boomed  the  clergy- 


A  WASTED  PLEA  145 

man's  unctuous  tones.  "  The  elements  are  indeed 
at  war  to-night !  I  trust  the  household  is  well  ?  " 

Marta  curtseyed  bobbingly  to  both  men  as  she 
said: 

"  Yes,  sir,  thank  you,  Mr.  Batholommey,  only 
poor  little  Willem,  sir.  He's  strange  and  not 
like  himself,  sir.  The  doctor  was  in  and  out 
through  the  day,  and  now  he's  here  again — up 
stairs  with  Willem." 

As  Marta  talked,  Mr.  Batholommey  divested 
himself  of  his  long  black  rainproof  coat,  and 
Colonel  Lawton  (who  had  not  felt  it  necessary 
to  reply  to  Malta's  civil  greeting)  hastily  took 
off  his  rubber  poncho,  giving  it  a  vigorous  shake 
that  sent  the  raindrops  flying.  He  was  a  tall, 
middle-aged  man,  loosely  put  together,  who  wore 
his  clothes  very  badly.  One  somehow  got  the 
idea  that  they  were  never  pressed. 

"Brr!"  he  cried,  taking  off  his  overshoes. 
"What  a  storm  for  June!  It's  more  like  fall! 
Look  at  my  rubbers — and  yours  are  just  as 
bad — mud-soaked!  Get  'em  off,  quick.  They're 
enough  to  give  any  one  a  chill !  " 

Marta  had  slipped  out  unnoticed,  and  now 
Frederik  came  in  just  in  time  to  see  the  dripping 
coats  hung  up  on  the  hat  rack. 


146       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Good-evening,"  he  said  in  what  he  intended 
for  a  cordial  tone. 

"  Ah,  just  in  time,"  answered  Colonel  Lawton. 
"  Gee  Whillikins !  What  a  day  1  " 

Then  turning  again  to  Mr.  Batholommey  he 
went  on  jocularly: 

"  Great  weather  for  baptisms — Parson." 

Having  successfully  disentangled  himself  at  last 
from  all  his  water-soaked  outer  coverings,  Mr. 
Batholommey  turned  and  offered  a  damp  and  rainy 
hand  to  Frederik. 

"  Good-evening,  good-evening,  Frederik,"  he 
said  impressively.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  We 
are  pleased  to  be  here,  in  spite  of  the  weather." 

"  Well,  here  we  are,  Frederik,  my  boy, " 

put  in  Colonel  Lawton.  "  At  the  time  you  set." 

After  shaking  hands  with  both  men,  Frederik, 
perhaps  unconsciously,  wiped  his  own  on  his  hand 
kerchief.  Then  going  to  the  desk,  he  took  a 
paper  from  under  the  paperweight.  After  study 
ing  it  a  moment,  he  said  (smiling  a  bit  to  himself 
and  turning  that  the  others  might  not  see  the 
smile)  : 

"  I  sent  for  you  to  hear  a  memorandum  left 
by  my  uncle.  I  came  across  it  only  this  morn- 
ing." 


A  WASTED  PLEA  147 

Both  Mr.  Batholommey  and  Colonel  Lawton 
tried  to  conceal  their  excitement. 

"  I  must  have  drawn  up  ten  wills  for  the  old 
gentleman,"  announced  Colonel  Lawton,  "  but  he 
always  tore  'em  up." 

Then,  throwing  back  his  head  and  peering  at 
Frederik  through  his  spectacles: 

"  May  I  have  a  drink  of  his  plum  brandy,  Fred 
erik?" 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Frederik  carelessly. 
"Help  yourself.  Pastor,  will  you  have  some?" 

Colonel  Lawton  poured  out  a  glass  of  brandy 
and  offered  it  to  Mr.  Batholommey,  then  helped 
himself  with  alacrity.  In  the  roll  of  thunder 
which  came  at  that  moment,  no  one  heard  the  foot 
steps  of  Mrs.  Batholommey,  as  she  entered  from 
the  "  front  parlour." 

The  tableau  that  met  her  vision  caused  her  to 
give  a  little  shriek  as  she  stopped  short,  and 
gazed  with  horror-struck  eyes  at  her  husband  and 
his  brandy  glass. 

"Why,  Henry!  What  are  you  doing?  Are 
your  feet  wet?  " 

Mr.  Batholommey  did  not  get  a  drink  every 
day,  and  this  one  was  much  too  nearly  his  to  be 
relinquished  now.  It  was  not  a  case  for  self- 


148       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

denial.  It  was  not  a  case  where  it  was  necessary 
to  be  a  good  example  for  any  one.  Therefore  the 
pastor  gave  place  to  the  husband  for  a  moment, 
and  when  Mrs.  Batholommey  repeated: 

"  Are  your  feet  wet,  Henry?  " 

He  answered  with  decision : 

"  No,  Rose,  they're  not.  I  want  a  drink  and 
I'm  going  to  take  it.  It's  a  bad  night." 

Mrs.  Batholommey  said  no  more,  but  closing 
her  mouth  tightly,  turned  away  with  lifted  eye 
brows  and  downcast  eyes,  reproachful  indignation 
bristling  at  every  point. 

Her  husband,  well  pleased  at  his  little  victory, 
smacked  his  lips  with  enjoyment;  returned  the  now 
empty  glass  to  the  Colonel  and,  rubbing  his  hands 
together,  went  toward  the  fireplace.  Mrs.  Bath 
olommey,  her  indignation  quickly  forgotten,  joined 
him  there  and  sat  down  beside  him.  Colonel 
Lawton,  hastily  replacing  decanter  and  glasses  on 
the  table,  also  drew  up  a  chair  in  front  of  the 
fire — and  waited. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    LEGACIES 

FREDERIK,  glancing  at  the  backs  of  the  three  eager, 
huddled  figures  crouching  almost  literally  in  the 
fireplace,  smiled  again  to  himself — and  allowed 
them  to  wait. 

Finally,  Colonel  Lawton  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  Still  with  his  back  to  the  heir,  and  his 
eyes  toward  the  fire,  he  cried: 

"Well,  go  ahead,  Frederik." 

No  response.     Mr.  Batholommey  tried  next. 

"  I  knew  your  uncle  would  remember  his  friends 
and  his  charities,"  he  said  smugly.  "  He  gave  it 
in  such  a  free-handed,  princely  way." 

Frederik  could  not  resist  a  sarcastic  chuckle, 
as  he  glanced  toward  the  three  backs  once  more, 
and  then  began  to  read  the  memorandum  aloud. 

"For  Mrs.  Batholommey:" 

He  got  no  further  for,  at  the  first  word,  the 
three  chairs  were  turned  around  to  face  Frederik, 
quickly  and  simultaneously;  so  that  the  beneficiaries 
might  not  have  even  their  own  backs  between  them 
and  their  coming  fortune. 

149 


150       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

At  hearing  her  name,  Mrs.  Batholommey  burst 
out: 

"The  dear  man!  To  think  he  remembered 
me!  I  knew  he'd  remember  the  church  and  Mr. 
Batholommey — of  course — but  to  think  he'd  re 
member  me!  " 

Here  she  cast  her  eyes  up  to  heaven  in  grateful 
recognition. 

"  He  knew  that  our  income  was  very  limited," 
she  went  on  comfortably.  "  He  was  so  thought 
ful.  His  purse,"  she  sighed  with  feeling,  "  was 
always  open." 

Having  delivered  this  eulogism  of  the  dead,  the 
lady  folded  her  hands  placidly,  and  with  eyes  cast 
down,  but  attentive,  settled  herself  to  await  de 
velopments. 

Frederik  looked  at  her  a  moment,  grinned  to 
himself,  then  continued: 

"For  Mr.  Batholommey:" 

The  clergyman  nodded  solemnly,  but  a  pleased 
expression  crept  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
and  his  face  took  on  an  extra  look  of  smugness. 

"  Our  reward  is  laid  up  for  us,"  he  murmured 
sententiously,  "  where  we  least  expect  it." 

"  Quite  so "  said  Frederik  shortly.  "  And 

as  the  doctor  isn't  here — well,  the  next  is  you, 


THE  LEGACIES  151 

Colonel.  The  others  mentioned  are  people  in  his 
employ." 

Colonel  Lawton  settled  lower  in  his  chair,  until 
he  might  almost  be  said  to  be  lying  on  his  back. 
He  crossed  his  legs  luxuriously  and  took  a  cigar 
from  his  pocket,  saying  as  he  lighted  it: 

"  He  knew  I  did  the  best  I  could  for  him — 
the  grand  old  man!  "  Then  dropping  the  eulogis 
tic  tone  for  one  of  strict  business: 

"What'd  he  leave  me?" 

Frederik  kept  them  waiting  a  moment  longer. 
He  was  having  the  time  of  his  life.  He  had  pur 
posely  strung  out  the  situation  to  its  last  thread, 
for  the  joy  of  witnessing  the  self-satisfied  eagerness 
of  the  three  legatees.  Silent  now,  but  acutely  at 
tentive,  they  sat  with  watchful  eyes  trained  on 
Frederik  and  the  all-important  paper  which  he 
was  holding  so  carelessly  in  his  hand — the  paper 
that  was  presently  to  tell  them  so  much  of  moment. 
Then  it  came. 

"  Mrs.  Batholommey,  he  wishes  you  to  have  his 
miniature — with  his  affectionate  regard." 

Frederik  took  a  miniature  from  the  desk  drawer 
and  offered  it  to  Mrs.  Batholommey  with  much 
ceremony.  She  did  not  take  it,  but  sat  waiting  as 
before,  merely  folding  her  hands  as  she  purred: 


152       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Dear  old  gentleman — and — er — yes  ?  " 

Frederik  seemed  not  to  hear  her,  and  laying 
the  miniature  on  the  desk,  went  on  reading: 

"  To  Mr.  Batholommey " 

The  clergyman's  wife  broke  in  quickly. 

"  But — er — you  didn't  finish  mine!  " 

Frederik  turned  around  in  his  chair  and  looked 
directly  at  her. 

"  You're  finished,"  he  said. 

"  I'm  finished? "  cried  Mrs.  Batholommey,  in 
a  voice  trembling  with  indignation. 

"  Rose !  "  her  husband  remonstrated  in  severe 
rebuke. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  very  well  for  you  to  say  '  Rose !  * 
How  would  you  like  it  to  get  nothing  but  an  old 
picture  ?  Tell  me  that !  " 

Here  she  had  recourse  to  her  handkerchief, 
and  her  lips  trembled  as  she  wiped  her  eyes, 
sniffling  sorrowfully  and  all  unheeded  by  the 
others. 

Frederik  took  a  watch  fob  from  the  drawer 
before  he  continued  his  reading. 

"  To  Mr.  Batholommey :  my  antique  watch  fob 
— with  profound  respect." 

The  executor  rolled  the  words  under  his 
tongue. 


THE  LEGACIES  153 

Mr.  Batholommey  rose,  bowed  graciously,  and 
accepted  the  watch  fob  without  looking  at  it. 
Then  he  sat  down. 

The  voice  of  Fate  went  on: 

"  To  Colonel  Lawton " 

Before  Frederik  could  get  any  farther,  Mrs. 
Batholommey  was  again  at  the  front: 

"  His  watch  fob?  Is  that  what  he  left  Henry? 

Is  that  all?  His Why!  Well!  I  can't 

believe  it!  If  he  had  no  wish  to  make  our  life 
easier,  at  least  he  should  have  left  something  for 
the  church.  Oh,  Henry!  "  she  cried  in  consterna 
tion.  "  Won't  the  congregation  have  a  crow  to 
pick  with  you !  " 

Frederik  no  longer  made  any  effort  to  conceal 
his  pleasure  at  the  part  he  had  to  play.  He  smiled 
broadly  and  maliciously  and  he  was  quite  willing 
that  they  should  all  see  him  smile. 

It  must  be  said  of  Mr.  Batholommey  that  he 
took  his  disappointment  rather  well.  He  said 
nothing  at  all,  and  he  tried  not  to  show  how  he 
felt.  In  fact  he  tried  not  to  feel  any  resentment 
toward  his  late  parishioner.  It  was  one  of  the 
hardest  moments  of  his  life;  but  he  knew  that  as 
a  clergyman  he  should  be  able  to  forgive — and  he 
tried  very  hard. 


154      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

It  would  have  been  so  comfortable  to  have  a 
tidy  sum  to  put  by  for  his  old  age!  He  had 
expected  it  so  confidently!  He  had  flattered  and 
praised  and  praised  and  flattered !  And  now,  after 
all,  he  was  left  high  and  dry — with  a  watch  fob 
to  look  to  for  comfort  in  his  declining  years  !  He 
would  keep  his  feelings  to  himself  if  possible, 
however.  He  did  not  care  to  make  Frederik's 
triumph  any  greater,  or  his  smile  any  broader  on 
his  account;  so  he  compelled  himself  to  listen  to 
the  third  part  of  the  memorandum  with  an  ex 
pression  of  polite  interest. 

"  To  my  lifelong  friend,  Colonel  Lawton,  I 
leave  my  most  cherished  possession." 

The  Colonel  preened  himself.  He  stuck  his 
thumbs  into  the  armholes  of  his  vest  and  wagged 
his  crossed  foot  complacently.  This  was  to  be 
the  real  kernel  of  the  memorandum. 

His  appearance  of  security  was  too  much  for 
Mrs.  Batholommey. 

"Oh!     When  the  church  hears " 

She  was  interrupted  by  Colonel  Lawton: 

"  I  don't  know  why  he  was  called  upon  to  leave 
anything  to  the  church,"  he  said  truculently,  un 
crossing  his  legs  and  leaning  forward.  "  He  gave 
it  thousands,  and  only  last  month  he  put  in  chimes. 


THE  LEGACIES  155 

As  I  look  at  it,  he  wished  to  give  you  something 
he  had  used — something  personal.  Perhaps  the 
miniature  and  the  fob  ain't  worth  three  whoops 
in  hell — it's  the  sentiment/  " 

He  lay  back  in  his  chair  again  as  he  fairly 
chewed  on  the  word  '  sentiment.'  Once  more  he 
crossed  his  legs,  and  peered  at  Frederik  through 
his  glasses. 

"  Drive  on,  Fred,"  he  ordered. 

"  To  Colonel  Lawton,  my  father's  prayer 
book." 

As  he  read,  Frederik  put  one  hand  into  the 
drawer,  and  took  out  a  worn  prayer  book. 

Mr.  Batholommey  smiled,  and  chuckled  be 
hind  his  hand,  but  Colonel  Lawton  seemed  dazed. 
His  jaw  dropped,  and  he  looked  helplessly  at 
Frederik  and  the  others. 

"What?"  he  said  in  a  choking  voice.  "His 
prayer  book — me?" 

As  in  a  dream  he  slowly  leaned  forward  and 
took  it  gingerly  between  two  fingers  as  one  might 
a  June  bug — gazing  at  it  in  amazed  horror  and 
incredulity  the  while. 

"Is  that  all?"  demanded  Mrs.  Batholommey. 

''  That's  all,"  answered  Frederik,  bowing  to 
Mrs.  Batholommey  and  smiling  radiantly. 


156       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Colonel  Lawton,  still  dazed,  could  only  reiter 
ate: 

"A  prayer  book.     Me?     What  for?" 

Then  he  got  up  slowly. 

"Well,  I'll  be Here,  Parson."  As  an 

idea  struck  him,  he  turned  quickly  toward  Mr. 
Batholommey.  "  Let's  shift — you  take  the  prayer 
book  and  I'll  take  the  old  fob !  " 

Mr.  Batholommey  smiled  and  waved  away  the 
offered  book. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  smoothly,  "  I  already 
have  a  prayer  book." 

At  this  retort,  the  Colonel  wilted  completely. 
Drawing  his  chair  close  to  the  fire  he  sat  down 
limply  and  gave  himself  up  to  bitter  reflection. 

Mrs.  Batholommey  seemed  the  least  able  of 
the  three  to  bear  the  shattering  of  her  high  hopes. 
She  moved  around  the  room  restlessly. 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  is" — (her  voice  shook 
and  her  eyes  reproached  Frederik) — "  I'm  disap 
pointed  in  your  uncle." 

No  one  paid  any  attention  to  her  remark,  each 
person  being  engrossed  in  his  own  thoughts.  For 
some  moments  the  air  was  pregnant  with  unspoken 
invective. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MOSTLY  CONCERNING  GRATITUDE 

FINALLY  Colonel  Lawton  turned  toward  Fred- 
erik.  He  was  now  sitting  astride  his  chair  and 
puffing  violently  at  his  cigar. 

"  Is  this  what  you  hauled  us  out  in  the  rain 
for?  "  he  snarled. 

Mrs.  Batholommey,  all  unheeding,  went  on  with 
her  own  train  of  thought. 

"  I  see  it  all  now,"  she  whimpered.  "  He  only 
gave  to  the  church  to  show  off !  " 

"  Rose !  "  her  husband  cried,  aghast.  "  I  my 
self  am  disappointed,  but " 

"  He  did!  "  interrupted  Mrs.  Batholommey  in 
tears  of  wrath.  "  Oh,  why  didn't  he  continue 
his  work?  He  was  not  generous.  He  was  a 
hard,  uncharitable,  selfish  old  man." 

"Rose,  my  dear!"  remonstrated  Mr.  Bathol 
ommey.  "  Think  what  you  are  saying!  " 

"  He  was !  If  he  were  here,  I'd  say  it  to  his 
face.  The  congregation  sicked  you  after  him. 
And  now  he's  gone  and  you'll  get  nothing  more. 
And  they'll  call  you  slow — slow  and  pokey! 

157 


158       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

You'll     see !       To-morrow    you'll    wake     up ! " 

"My  dear!"  expostulated  her  husband  once 
more. 

But  Mrs.  Batholommey  paid  no  attention  to 
his  words  or  to  the  beseeching  look  that  accom 
panied  them.  She  waved  an  arm  dramatically. 

"  Here's  a  man  the  rector  spent  half  his  time 
with — and  for  what?  A  watch  fob!  " 

The  ineffable  scorn  with  which  she  pronounced 
these  last  words  caused  Mr.  Batholommey  to  hang 
his  head. 

"  You'll  see !  "  she  went  on.  "  This  will  be  the 
end  of  you !  It's  not  what  you  preach  that  counts 
nowadays.  It's  what  you  coax  out  of  the  rich 
parishioners'  pockets." 

"Mrs.  Batholommey!"  thundered  the  clergy 
man,  taking  a  step  forward;  but  he  might  as  well 
have  tried  to  stem  the  ocean. 

"  The  church  needs  funds  to-day.  Religion 
doesn't  stand  where  it  did,  when  a  college  pro 
fessor  is  saying  that — that — " — (here  her  voice 
broke) — "  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  was  only  a 
comet." 

The  end  of  the  sentence  resolved  itself  into  a 
veritable  wail  and  she  sat  down  quickly  and  sub 
sided  into  her  handkerchief. 


MOSTLY  CONCERNING  GRATITUDE      159 

"  My  dear !  "  reiterated  the  helpless  husband. 

"Oh!"  she  wailed  through  her  tears,  "if  I 
said  all  the  things  I  feel  like  saying  about  Peter 
Grimm " — (here  it  almost  sounded  as  if  she 
ground  her  teeth) — "well — I  shouldn't  be  a  fit 
clergyman's  wife.  Not  to  leave  his  dear  friends 
a " 

Again  her  voice  was  muffled  in  the  folds  of  the 
handkerchief,  and  Colonel  Lawton  took  advan 
tage  of  the  temporary  lull  to  put  in  a  word. 

"  He  wasn't  liberal''  he  said,  rising,  "  but  for 
God's  sake,  Madam,  think  what  he  ought  to  have 
done  for  me  after  my  patiently  listening  to  his 
plans  for  twenty  years  !  Mind,  I'm  not  complain 
ing,  but  what  have  I  got  out  of  it?  A  Bible!  " 

"Oh,  you've  feathered  your  nest,  Colonel!" 
cried  Mrs.  Batholommey,  recovering  somewhat. 

"  I  never  came  here,"  retorted  Colonel  Lawton 
spitefully,  "that  you  weren't  begging!" 

"  See  here,  Lawton,"  the  clergyman  interrupted 
truculently,  "  don't  forget  who  you  are  speak 
ing  to!  " 

Colonel  Lawton  waved  his  hand  patronisingly 
at  the  clergyman. 

"  That's  all  right,  Parson.  I  know  who  I'm 
speaking  to.  We're  all  in  the  same  boat — one's 


160       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

as  good  as  another — when  we're  all  up  against  a 
thing  like  this.  If  anything,  you  two  are  worse 
than  I  am,  for  you  stand  for  better  things.  What 
would  your  congregation  think  of  either  of  you 
if  they  could  look  into  your  hearts  this  moment 
and  see  'em  as  they  really  are?" 

"  Really  are — really  are !  "  cried  Mrs.  Bathol- 
ommey.  "  I'm  not  ashamed  to  have  any  one  see 
my  heart  as  it  really  is !  " 

(And  Mrs.  Batholommey  was  telling  the  truth, 
for  she  was  a  good  woman  at  heart,  and  it  was 
not  her  fault  that  she  had  a  human  desire  for  this 
world's  goods  for  those  she  loved,  for  the  church, 
and  for  herself.) 

Here  Frederik,  who  had  watched  the  scene  with 
much  amusement  at  first,  came  forward  through 
the  increasing  gloom.  He  was  getting  tired  of 
the  childish  bickering. 

"  Well,  well,  well,  I'm  disgusted,"  he  said, 
*'  when  I  see  such  heartlessness !  He  was  putty 
in  all  your  hands." 

"  Oh,  you  can  defend  his  memory.  You  got 
the  money !  "  cried  Mrs.  Batholommey,  with  as 
perity.  "  He  liked  flattery  and  you  gave  him 
what  he  wanted  and  you  gave  him  plenty 
of  it." 


MOSTLY  CONCERNING  GRATITUDE      161 

"  Why  not?  "  retorted  Frederik  calmly,  getting 
a  cigarette  out  of  his  case.  "  The  rest  of  you 
were  at  the  same  thing — yes  ?  " 

He  struck  a  match  and  lighted  his  cigarette  as 
he  continued  in  a  disagreeable  tone: 

"  And  I  had  the  pleasure  of  watching  him  hand 
out  the  money  that  belonged  to  me — to  me"  he 
repeated.  "  My  money!  What  business  had  he 
to  be  generous  with  my  money?  " 

Still  talking,  Frederik  sat  down  at  the 
desk. 

"  If  he'd  lived  much  longer,  I'd  have  been  a 
pauper.  It's  a  lucky  thing  for  me  he  di " 

Frederik  had  the  grace  to  leave  the  word  un 
finished. 

Mr.  Batholommey  broke  the  slight  pause. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  it  might 
have  been  better  if  Mr.  Grimm  had  given  all  he 
had  to  charity — for  he  left  his  money  to  an  Mi 
grate." 

The  "  ingrate  "  laughed  derisively. 

"  Ha !  Ha !  Ha !  "  he  cried.  "  You  amuse  one  I 
You  don't  know  how  amusing  you  are." 

No  one  cared  to  add  further  to  Frederik's 
amusement,  so  they  all  sat  still.  The  room  was 
now  perfectly  dark,  except  for  an  occasional  flash 


1 62       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

of    heat-lightning     from    the    vanished    storm. 

Night  had  crept  upon  them  unheeded,  so  intent 
had  they  been  on  their  petty  wrangling. 

Finally  Mrs.  Batholommey  got  up  and  went 
towards  the  desk. 

"  Where  is  the  miniature  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  I 
don't  want  it — but  I'll  take  it." 

Frederik  lighted  a  match,  and  by  its  flickering 
blaze  found  the  discarded  miniature  lying  face 
downward  on  the  desk.  Mrs.  Batholommey 
snatched  it  from  his  fingers,  and  made  her  way 
back  to  the  fireplace. 

"  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  "  laughed  Frederik  again. 

"  Rose,  my  dear,"  began  Mr.  Batholommey, 
«  the  min " 

"Sh!"  interrupted  Frederik. 

There  was  a  pause.     Then  he  rose. 

"  Who  came  into  the  room?"  he  asked  in  a 
strange  voice. 

He  lit  a  match  and  waved  it  slowly  in  the 
direction  of  the  hall  door.  It  was  extinguished 
instantly  as  if  the  wind  had  blown  it  out.  He 
lighted  another,  saying: 

"  We're  sitting  in  the  darkness  like  owls. 
Who  came  in?  "  he  demanded  again. 

There  was  no  answer  as  he  peered  around  the 


MOSTLY  CONCERNING  GRATITUDE      163 

room,  holding  the  match  toward  first  one  corner 
and  then  another. 

"  I  didn't  hear  any  one,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Nor  I,"  added  Mrs.  Batholommey. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Batholommey. 

"  I  was  sure  some  one  came  in,"  Frederik  said 
in  a  strange  voice. 

"  You  must  have  imagined  it,"  suggested  Mr. 
Batholommey.  "  Our  nerves  are  all  upset." 

"  I'll  get  a  light,"  Frederik  said,  starting  to 
ward  the  dining-room. 

At  that  moment,  Marta  entered  with  the  wel 
come  lamps.  She  carried  two  of  them,  one  al 
ready  lighted,  which  she  put  upon  the  table.  The 
other  Frederik  took  quickly  from  her  and  carried 
to  the  chain-bracket  over  the  desk.  This  he  ad 
justed  with  Marta's  help,  and  then  lighted. 

After  which  he  glanced  apprehensively  about 
the  room  once  more.  Even  under  the  reassur 
ing  flood  of  light  his  impression  that  some  one 
had  stolen  in  upon  the  dim-lit  conference  would 
not  wholly  vanish. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  RETURN 

.< 

THE  Dead  Man  came  home. 

The  old  collie,  lying  stretched  in  the  deep 
porch,  safe  from  the  storm,  knew  him.  As  the 
Dead  Man  came  up  the  walk  between  the  trim 
beds  of  rain-soaked  flowers,  the  old  dog  crawled 
rheumatically  to  its  feet,  the  bleared  eyes  bright 
ening,  the  feathered  tail  awag  in  joyous  greeting 
to  the  loved  master  who  had  been  so  long  and 
so  unaccountably  absent. 

Peter  Grimm  laid  a  hand  caressingly  on  his 
old  pet's  head;  then  passed  into  his  former  home. 

And  so,  at  Frederik's  frightened  demand, 
"Who  came  into  the  room?"  the  Dead  Man 
stood  among  his  own  again.  Before  him  was 
the  nephew  he  had  loved.  Nearby  were  the  hus 
band  and  wife  whose  follies  and  harmless  affecta 
tions  he  had  forgiven  with  a  laugh  of  amusement, 
for  the  sake  of  their  goodness  and  for  the  devo 
tion  they  bore  himself.  Lounging  in  the  chair 
that  had  been  his  own  was  the  lawyer  who  had 

been  his  dear  friend  and  adviser.     The   friends 

164 


THE  RETURN  165 

he  had  cared  for,  the  nephew  on  whom  his  every 
hope  had  been  set. 

With  a  wistful  half-smile,  Peter  Grimm  sur 
veyed  the  group. 

And,  as  Marta  brought  in  one  lighted  lamp  and 
then  bustled  about  lighting  another,  he  stood  in 
clear  view  of  them  all.  Clad  in  the  same  old- 
fashioned  garb  with  which  they  were  so  familiar, 
he  was  unchanged,  save. that  all  age  and  all  care 
lines  were  wiped  from  his  face. 

He  was  not  a  wraith,  no  grisly  spectre,  no  half- 
nebulous  Shape.  He  was  Peter  Grimm,  rugged, 
homespun,  the  man  whose  iron  individuality  had 
undergone  and  could  undergo  no  change. 

He  stood  there  in  the  lamplight,  plainly  visible 
— to  such  as  had  eyes  to  see  him. 

The  dog,  with  that  sense  which  God  gives  to 
all  animals  and  withholds  from  all  humans,  had 
had  no  more  difficulty  in  recognising  him  than 
when  Peter  Grimm  had  walked  the  earth  in  the 
flesh. 

The  faculty  which  makes  a  sleeping  dog  awake, 
raise  its  head,  wag  its  tail  and  follow  with  its 
eyes  the  movements  of  some  invisible  form  that 
moves  from  place  to  place  in  a  room, — which 
makes  a  flock  of  chickens  scatter  squawking  and 


1 66       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

fluttering  when  no  human  being  can  discern  cause 
for  their  flight — which  makes  a  horse  shy  violently 
when  travelling  a  patch  of  road,  apparently  barren 
of  anything  to  alarm  him, — which  makes  a  cat 
suddenly  arch  its  back  and  spit  and  strike  at  the 
Unseen,  or  else  rub  purringly  against  an  invisible 
hand — this  faculty  made  Peter  Grimm  very  real 
to  his  blear-eyed,  asthmatic  old  collie. 

But  the  inmates  of  the  room,  being  but  human, 
had  seen  and  heard  nothing.  Frederik,  it  is  true, 
being  in  a  constant  state  of  nervous  tension  that 
rendered  his  senses  less  dense  and  earthy  than 
usual,  had  fancied  he  heard — or  felt — some  one 
enter  the  room.  But  at  the  disclaimers  of  the 
rest,  the  notion  vanished  as  such  notions  do.  And 
the  warm  flood  of  lamplight  dispelled  whatever 
of  the  psychic  may  have  brooded  over  the  little 
group,  bringing  back  their  comfortable  material 
ism  with  a  rush. 

Wherefore,  in  his  old  home  and  among  his  own, 
Peter  Grimm  stood  unseen ;  that  deprecatory  half- 
smile  on  his  square,  ageless  face. 

The  lighting  of  the  lamps  and  Marta's  noisy 
return  to  her  own  culinary  domain  served  as  sig 
nals  to  break  up  the  group  about  the  desk.  Mr. 
Batholommey  crossed  the  room  and  took  his  hat 


THE  RETURN  167 

and  coat  from  the  rack,  passing  within  a  hand's- 
breadth  of  the  smiling,  expectant  Peter  Grimm  as 
he  did  so. 

"  Well,  Frederik,"  said  the  rector  doubtfully  by 
way  of  farewell,  "  I  hope  that  you'll  follow  your 
uncle's  example  at  least  as  far  as  our  parish  poor 
are  concerned, — and  keep  on  with  some  of  his 
charities." 

Mrs.  Batholommey,  dutifully  following  her 
husband  to  the  rack  and  helping  him  on  with  his 
coat,  turned  to  hear  Frederik  answer  the  ques 
tion  she  and  the  rector  had  so  often  and  so 
anxiously  discussed  during  the  past  ten  days.  The 
heir  did  his  best  to  settle  their  every  doubt  in  the 
fewest  possible  words. 

"  I  may  as  well  tell  you  now,  as  any  time," 
said  he,  "  that  you  needn't  look  to  me  for  any 
charitable  graft  at  all.  Your  parish  poor  will 
have  to  begin  hustling  for  a  living  now.  I  don't 
intend  to  waste  good  money  in  feeding  what  you 
Americans  call  '  a  bunch  of  panhandlers.'  ' 

"  Oh !  "  cried  Mrs.  Batholommey,  inexpressibly 
disappointed. 

The  smile  died  on  Peter  Grimm's  face  and  the 
light  of  happy  expectancy  was  gone  from  his  eyes. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Frederik,"  said  the  rector 


1 68       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

stiffly,  "  not  only  that  you  can  speak  so  of  God's 
poor,  but  that  you  are  not  willing  to  continue 
your  uncle's  splendid  philanthropies.  It — it 
doesn't  seem  possible  that  he  never  told  you  how 
dear  his  chanties  were  to  him.  Well,"  he  broke 
off  with  a  shrug,  and  glancing  at  his  watch,  "  I've 
got  thirty  minutes  to  make  a  call  before  tea 
time." 

"  I  must  be  toddling,  too,"  said  Colonel  Law- 
ton.  "  Are  you  going  my  way,  Mr.  Batholom- 
mey?  It's  queer,  Frederik,"  he  added,  bidding 
his  host  good-bye,  "  it's  queer — deucedly  queer 
how  things  turn  out.  There's  one  thing  certain: 
the  old  gentleman  should  have  made  a  will.  But 
it's  too  late  now  for  us  to  grumble  about  that, 
By  the  way,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  all 
his  relics  and  family  heirlooms,  Frederik?  Have 
you  thought  of  it?  I  supposed,  of  course,  you'd 
keep  everything  just  as  he  left  it.  But  from  the 
way  you've  talked  this  afternoon,  I  wonder " 

"  Heirlooms?  Relics?  "  queried  Frederik,  puz 
zled.  "Oh — you  mean  all  this  junk?"  with  a 
comprehensive  hand  wave  that  included  Dutch 
clock,  Dutch  warming  pans,  Dutch  bric-a-brac,  and 
Dutch  furniture.  "  This  junk  all  over  the  house? 
Oh,  I'll  have  it  carted  to  the  nearest  ash  heap. 


THE  RETURN  169 

It  isn't  worth  a  red  cent  of  any  one's  money." 

Peter  Grimm  strode  forward,  his  lips  parted 
in  quick  protest.  But  Colonel  Lawton  was  al 
ready  answering,  with  an  appraising  look  about 
the  room: 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Frederik.  It  may 
not  be  as  worthless  as  you  seem  to  think.  Better 
let  me  send  for  a  dealer  to  sort  it  over  after  you've 
gone  on  your  honeymoon.  I've  heard  that  some 
people  are  fools  enough  to  pay  a  lot  of  good 
money  for  this  sort  of  antique  trash." 

"  Not  a  bad  idea,"  approved  Frederik.  "  See 
what  you  can  do  about  it,  won't  you?  I  want  it 
cleared  out.  And  if  I  can  get  rid  of  it  and  do  it 
at  a  profit,  too,  why,  all  the  better." 

"  If  I  could  get  that  old  clock,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Batholommey,  the  light  of  the  bargain  hunt  shin 
ing  in  her  large  face,  "  I  might  consent  to  take 
it  off  your  hands.  Of  course  it  isn't  really  worth 
anything.  But •" 

"  I've  an  idea,"  replied  Frederik,  with  charm* 
ing  dearth  of  civility,  "  that  it's  worth  a  lot  more 
than  you'd  pay  me  for  it." 

"  I  hope,"  she  snapped  angrily  as  she  glared 
at  Frederik,  "  that  your  poor  dear  uncle  is  where 
he  can  see  his  mistake  now !  " 


170       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  I  am  where  I  can  see  several,"  said  the  Dead 
Man  to  ears  that  could  not  hear. 

"  Do  you  know,"  pursued  Mrs.  Batholommey, 
whose  depths  of  professional  sweetness  had  been 
turned  faintly  sub-acid  by  the  events  of  the  day — 
"  do  you  know,  Frederik,  what  I  would  like  to 
say  to  your  uncle  if  I  could  just  once  stand  face 
to  face  with  him,  this  very  minute?  " 

"  Yes,"  smiled  Peter  Grimm  sadly,  as  he  looked 
-deep  into  her  eyes,  "  I  know." 

"  I  should  say  to  him "  began  Mrs.  Bathol 
ommey. 

Then  she  checked  herself  as  at  some  impulse 
she  herself  did  not  understand,  and  finished  some 
what  lamely: 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  say  it,  either.  He's  dead. 
And  we're  told  we  must  speak  no  ill  of  the  dead. 
Though,  for  my  part,  I  never  could  see  what  right 
we  gain  to  immunity  just  by  dying.  And — oh,  by 
the  way,  Henry,"  she  broke  off  as  her  husband 
and  the  lawyer  passed  out  of  the  vestibule,  "  Kath- 
rien  expects  you  back  for  supper.  Don't  forget, 
will  you,  dear?  Good-night,  Colonel  Lawton." 

She  followed  them,  closed  the  front  door  be 
hind  them,  and  bustled  off  to  look  after  the 
arrangements  for  supper. 


THE  RETURN  171 

Frederik  yawned,  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  saun 
tered  out  into  the  office,  Peter  Grimm  watching 
him  with  infinitely  sad  reproach  in  his  luminous 
eyes. 

Then,  left  alone  in  the  room  he  had  loved,  the 
Dead  Man  looked  about  him  at  the  dear  old  bits 
of  furniture  and  ornaments  that  had  meant  so 
much  to  him  and  whose  fate  he  had  just  heard 
weighed  between  auctioneer's  hammer  and  rubbish 
heap. 

He  moved  across  to  the  rack,  as  if  by  lifelong 
instinct,  and  hung  his  antique  hat  on  its  accus 
tomed  peg.  The  simple,  everyday  action  brought 
him  so  vividly  close  to  older  days  that,  as  Marta 
pottered  in  with  another  newly  filled  lamp,  he 
accosted  her. 

"  Marta !  "  he  called,  as  she  gave  no  sign  of 
recognition  to  his  kindly  nod  and  smile. 

She  set  down  the  lamp  in  its  place  on  the  piano, 
crossed  to  the  pulley-weight  clock,  and  noisily 
wound  it.  As  the  old  woman  started  back  toward 
her  kitchen,  the  Dead  Man  put  himself  once  more 
in  her  way. 

"  Marta !  "  said  he,  then  more  loudly  and  per 
emptorily,  "Marta!" 

She  passed  within  an  inch  of  his  outstretched 


172       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

hand  and  entered  the  kitchen,  shutting  the  door 
behind  her.  Peter  Grimm  stared  blankly  after 
his  housekeeper. 

"  I  seem  to  be  a  stranger  in  my  own  house," 
he  murmured.  "  My  friends  pass  me  by.  Their 
gross  eyes  cannot  see  me.  Their  gross  ears  will 
not  hear  me.  But — Lad  knew  me.  He  came  to 
meet  me,  wagging  his  tail  just  as  he  used  to.  I — 
I  remember  I've  more  than  once  noticed  his  going 
to  meet  other  people  like  that.  People  /  couldn't 
see  in  those  days." 

Frederik  lounged  back  from  the  office,  cigarette 
in  mouth.  He  took  out  his  watch,  compared  it 
with  the  clock  on  the  wall,  slipped  it  back  into 
his  pocket,  and  was  crossing  to  the  outer  door 
when  the  telephone  bell  on  the  desk  jangled. 

Frederik  laid  down  his  cigarette,  seated  himself 
at  the  desk,  and  picked  up  the  receiver. 

"Hello!"  he  called. 

At  the  reply,  he  glanced  around  hastily,  to  make 
sure  he  was  not  likely  to  be  overheard.  Then, 
sinking  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper  and  speak 
ing  with  a  nervous,  almost  guilty  eagerness,  he 
answered : 

"  Yes.  Yes.  This  is  Mr.  Grimm.  Mr.  Fred- 
erik  Grimm.  I've  been  waiting  all  day  to  hear 


THE  RETURN  173 

from  you,  Mr.  Hicks.  How  are  you  ?  Wait  one 
moment,  please." 

He  rose,  crossed  the  room,  closed  the  door  into 
the  dining-room, — the  only  door  that  had  been 
open, — glanced  up  into  the  bedroom  gallery  to 
make  certain  it  was  empty,  then  hurried  back  to 
the  telephone. 

"  Yes,"  said  he.     "  Go  ahead." 

There  was  a  brief  pause  while  he  listened. 
Then  he  replied,  in  a  tone  of  laboured  indiffer 
ence: 

"  Oh,  no.  You're  quite  mistaken.  I  am  not 
'  eager  to  sell.'  Not  at  all.  As  a  matter  of  fact," 
he  continued  unctuously,  "  I  much  prefer  to  carry 
out  my  dear  uncle's  wishes  and  keep  the  business 
in  the  family.  You  must  surely  remember  how 
determined  he  was  that  it  should  be  kept  on. — 
What? — 'If  I  could  get  my  price,'  eh?  That's 
different,  of  course.  It  puts  a  new  aspect  on  the 
whole  affair. — What?  Oh,  well,  an  offer  such  as 
that  deserves  careful  thought.  I  could  not  decline 
it  offhand. — No,  I  admit  it  is  very  tempting. — 
'Talk  it  over?'  Certainly." 

He  paused,  then  went  on  in  answer  to  a  query 
from  the  other  end  of  the  wire: 

"To-morrow?     No,    I'm    afraid    not.     You 


174       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

see,  I'm  going  to  be  married  to-morrow.  A  man 
does  not  want  to  be  bothered  with  business  deals 
on  his  wedding  day. — No,  the  next  day  won't  do, 
either,  I'm  afraid.  You  see,  we  are  sailing  directly 
for  Europe.  Thank  you.  Yes,  I  deserve  all  the 
congratulations  you  can  offer  me. — What? — Very 
well.  This  evening,  then.  That  will  suit  me  per 
fectly.  You're  in  New  York,  I  suppose?  What 
time  will  it  be  convenient  to  you  to  get  to  Grimm 
Manor? — What? — Yes,  that's  all  right.  No. 
Not  here  at  the  house.  I'll  meet  you  at  the  hotel. 
The  tavern. — Yes,  I'll  be  there  promptly. — 
What?" 

He  listened  a  moment,  then  laughed  in  evident, 
if  subdued,  amusement. 

"  So  the  dear  old  gentleman  used  to  tell  you 
his  plans  never  failed,  did  he?"  he  questioned. 
"  Yes,  I've  heard  the  same  boast  from  him  hun 
dreds  of  times.  That's  one  reason  why  I  want  the 
deal  kept  quiet  till  it's  settled.  So  I  asked  you 
to  meet  me  at  the  tavern  instead  of  here  at  the 
house.  I  don't  want  it  thought  by  other  people 
that  I'd  run  counter  to  his  plans  in  any  way.  God 
rest  his  soul!  Hey?  '  What  would  he  say  if  he 
knew?'  I  hate  to  think.  He  could  express 
himself  very  forcibly  when  his  dear,  stubborn  old 


THE  RETURN  175 

will  was  crossed.  You  may  remember  that.  Ohr 
well,  it's  life.  Everything  must  change." 

There  was  a  roll  of  thunder.  At  the  same 
instant  the  windows  flared  pink-white  with  light 
ning.  A  flash  of  electricity  ran  purring  and  crack 
ling  along  the  telephone  itself. 

Frederik,  with  a  sharp  cry  of  surprise,  dropped 
the  instrument,  and  squeezed  his  electrically 
shocked  arm.  Then  gingerly  he  picked  up  the 
telephone,  replaced  the  receiver,  and  turned  away 
toward  the  window  seat. 

Peter  Grimm  stood  eyeing  the  telephone  as  if 
the  man  who  had  so  lately  been  at  the  other  end 
of  the  wire  were  directly  in  front  of  him. 

"  You  don't  know  it,  Hicks,"  said  the  Dead 
Man  quietly,  "  but  you  will  never  carry  this  plan 
of  yours  through.  We  are  going  to  meet  very 
soon,  you  and  I." 

As  if  in  response  to  his  strange  prophecy,  the 
telephone  jangled  once  more.  Frederik  returned 
to  the  desk  and  put  the  receiver  to  his  ear. 

"Hello!"  he  called.  "Oh,  it's  you,  Mr. 
Hicks?  No,  they  didn't  cut  us  off.  I  thought 
you  were  through. — What? — A  little  louder, 
please.  I  can't  hear  you  very  well. — What? — 
You're  feeling  ill?  Oh,  I'm  sorry. — What? — 


176       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Oh,  yes,  it  will  do  just  as  well  to  send  your  lawyer 
instead,  if  you  find  you're  too  sick  to  make  the 
journey.  Your  lawyer  will  be  empowered  to  at 
tend  to  everything  in  your  name,  I  suppose? — 
Good. — Then  we  can  close  the  deal  to-night.  At 
the  hotel  and  at  the  same  time.  All  right.  What 
did  you  say  his  name  was? — Shelp? — All  right. 
Good-bye.  I  hope  you'll  feel  much  better  in  the 
morning,  Mr.  Hicks." 

He  relighted  his  cigarette,  humming  a  little  tune 
under  his  breath  as  he  walked  from  the  desk.  His 
narrow  face  was  very  content. 

"  And  that's  the  boy  I  loved  and  trusted !  "  said 
Peter  Grimm,  half  aloud,  watching  Frederik  take 
his  hat  and  umbrella  from  the  rack  and  leave  the 
house.  "  I  wonder  if  I  am  to  unearth  many  more 
of  my  mistakes.  I  come  upon  a  new  one  at  every 
turn." 

His  wandering  gaze  rested  on  the  door  of 
Kathrien's  room,  in  the  gallery  above.  His  lips 
parted  in  the  old  whimsical  smile.  Lifting  his 
voice,  he  gave  the  odd  call  that  had  for  years 
been  a  signal  to  Kathrien  of  his  presence  in  the 
house  and  his  desire  to  see  her. 

"  Ou-oof  "  rang  out  the  familiar  cry. 

And,  before  its  echoes  could  die  away,  Kathrien 


THE  RETURN  177 

was  out  of  her  room  and  at  the  stairhead.  She 
stood  there  an  instant,  dazed,  wondering,  like  some 
one  half-awakened  from  heavy  sleep. 

Looking  down  into  the  room  below,  she  slowly 
descended  the  stairs. 

"  I  thought  some  one  called  me,"  she  said. 

And  though  she  spoke  the  words  in  her  own 
brain  and  not  from  the  lips,  Peter  Grimm  heard 
and  answered  her. 

"  You  did,"  said  he.     "  I  called  you." 

Filled  with  a  sense  that  she  was  not  alone,  yet 
seeing  and  hearing  no  one,  she  came  down  into 
the  seemingly  vacant  room.  And,  still  without 
words,  she  said : 

"  I  thought  I  heard  a  voice  like — like " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Dead  Man  again,  "  you 
wanted  me,  little  girl.  That's  why  I  have  come. 
There,  there !  "  he  soothed,  as  she  stood  with 
troubled  face  trying  to  formulate  and  understand 
the  strange  sensation  that  had  suddenly  taken  pos 
session  of  her.  "  Don't  worry,  Katje.  It'll  come 
out  all  right.  We'll  arrange  things  very  differ 
ently.  I've  come  back  to " 

She  moved  away,  unhearing.  She  passed  un 
seeing  from  the  loving  outstretched  arms. 

"  Katje !  "  he  called  tenderly. 


178       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

But  she  did  not  turn  at  the  loving  appeal  in  his 
soundless  voice. 

"  Oh,  Katje !  Katje !  "  he  pleaded,  following 
her.  "  Can't  I  make  my  presence  known  to  you? 
Oh,  don't  cry  I" 

For  the  tears  had  welled  up,  unbidden,  in  her 
eyes. 

And  this  time  his  words,  in  a  vague,  roundabout 
way,  seemed  to  reach  her  understanding. 

"  Oh,  well,"  she  sighed,  drying  her  eyes.  "  Cry 
ing  doesn't  help." 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  Peter  Grimm  eagerly. 
"Good!  Good!  She  hears  me!  Smile,  little 
girl!  Smile,  I  say." 

A  trembling  ghost  of  a  smile  played  about  her 
sad  lips. 

"That's  right!"  he  encouraged.  "Smile! 
Smile!  You  haven't  smiled  before  since  I — since 
I  found  there  was  a  place  a  million  times  happier 
and  lovelier  and  more  wonderful  than  this  world 
that  I  left.  Listen,  little  girl!  Listen,  Katjer 
and  try  to  understand  me.  There  are  no  dead. 
We  never  really  die.  We  couldn't  if  we  tried  to. 
See  the  gardens  out  there.  Look!" 

As  if  in  response  to  his  words,  Kathrien's  half- 
smiling  face  was  turned  toward  the  flowering  gar- 


THE  RETURN  179 

den  beds  that  stretched  away  on  every  hand,  just 
outside  the  window. 

"  See  the  gardens,"  he  went  on,  glad  at  his  own 
seeming  success  in  catching  and  holding  her  atten 
tion.  "  They  die.  But  they  come  back  all  the 
better  for  it.  All  the  fresher  and  younger  and 
more  beautiful.  What  people  call  death  is  noth 
ing  more  than  a  nap.  We  wake  from  it  fresh 
ened — rested — made  over  again.  It's  a  wonderful 
sleep  that  people  fall  into,  old  and  slow  and  tired 
out.  And  they  spring  up  from  it  like  happy  chil 
dren  tumbling  out  of  bed, — ready  to  frolic  through 
another  world.  It  is  as  foolish  and  wrong  to 
mourn  for  people  who  fall  into  that  dear  sleep 
as  to  mourn  for  the  children  when  they  close 
their  eyes  at  the  end  of  the  day.  There  is  no 
death.  There  are  no  dead.  It  is  all  rest  and 
wonder  and  beauty  and  perfect  bliss.  So  stop  be 
ing  sad  for  me,  my  own  little  girl! 

"  There !  "  he  cried  in  triumph,  as  the  smile 
deepened  on  her  pale  face.  "  You're  happier  al 
ready!  And  you  begin  to  understand  me.  You 
can  hear  what  I  am  saying.  Because  no  sin,  no 
grossness  has  ever  shut  your  ears  to  all  but  earthly 
sounds.  Now  listen  to  me  carefully:  Katje,  I  want 
you  to  break  that  silly,  wicked  promise  I  wheedled 


i8o       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

you  into  making.  I  want  you  to  break  it.  You 
mustn't  ruin  your  life — and  James's — by  marrying 
Frederik.  It  would  mean  misery  for  every  one. 
Most  of  all  for  you,  little  girl.  That's  why  I 
came  here.  To  undo  the  harm  that  my  blindness 
and  obstinacy  brought  about.  When  that  is 
settled  I  can  take  my  journey  back  in  peace.  I 
can't  go  until  you  break  that  promise.  And — and 
oh,  I  long  to  go,  Katje !  Katje!  "  his  voice  rising 
in  yearning  entreaty,  as  the  smile  faded  from  her 
face  and  her  big  eyes  once  more  filled.  "  Isn't  my 
message  any  clearer  to  you?  " 

"  Oh,"  sighed  Kathrien,  half  aloud.  "  I'm  so 
alone — so  alone!  " 

"Alone?"  he  echoed.  "You  are  not  alone, 
Katje.  I'm  here.  Can't  you  feel  my  presence? 
And  then  there's  your  mother.  The  mother  you 
were  too  little  to  remember.  I  have  met  her, 
Katje.  I  have  met  your  mother.  She  knew  me 
at  once.  After  all  those  years.  '  You  are  Peter 
Grimm ! '  she  said.  I  told  her  you  had  a  happy 
home  here.  And  she  said  she  knew  that.  Then 
I  told  her  about  the  future  I  had  arranged,  and 
the  plans  I'd  made  for  you  and  Frederik.  And 
she  said :  '  Peter  Grimm,  you  have  overlooked  the 
most  important  thing  in  the  world: — Love!  Give 


THE  RETURN  181 

her  the  right  to  the  choice  of  her  lover.  It  is 
her  right.'  Then  it  came  over  me  all  at  once 
that  I  had  made  a  terrible  mistake.  That  I  had 
been  presumptuous  and  had  tried  to  play  Provi 
dence  and  shape  the  future  of  another.  At  that 
moment,  Katje,  you  called  to  me.  And  I  came 
back  to  show  you  the  way." 

He  moved  nearer  to  her. 

"  Your  mother,"  he  whispered,  bending  over  the 
girl  as  she  sank  into  a  chair  by  the  fire,  her  eyes 
dreaming  and  full  of  a  new  joy,  "  your  mother 
told  me  to  lay  my  hand  on  your  dear  head  and 
give  you  her  blessing.  And  she  said  I  must  tell 
you  she  will  be  with  you, — close — close  to  you — 
in  heart  and  thought,  until  the  day  shall  come  when 
she  can  hold  you  in  her  arms.  You  and  your 
loved  husband." 

Kathrien's  dreamy  gaze  strayed  from  the  fire- 
flicker  on  the  hearth  to  the  office  door,  on  whose 
farther  side  she  knew  Hartmann  was  at  work. 

"  Yes,"  smiled  Peter  Grimm,  noting  her  glance. 
"  You  and  James.  And  the  message  ended  in  this 
kiss." 

He  touched  his  lips  to  her  forehead.  And,  at 
the  unfelt  contact,  the  light  again  sprang  into  her 
eyes. 


1 82       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Can't  you  see  I'm  trying  to  help  you,  Katje?  n 
he  begged.  "Can't  you  even  hope?  Come, 
come!  Hope!  Why,  anybody  can  hope.  It  is 
the  very  easiest  and  most  natural  thing  on  earth. 
Especially  when  one  is  young — as  you  and  I  are. 
What  is  Youth  but  perpetual  Hope?  " 

The  light  in  her  eyes  deepened.  Her  look 
strayed  again  to  the  closed  office  door.  She  rose 
and  took  a  step  toward  it,  then  turned,  passed  her 
hand  caressingly  over  the  flowers  on  the  desk,  and 
moved  over  to  the  piano. 

She  seated  herself  on  the  music  stool  and,  for 
the  first  time  in  ten  endless  days,  let  her  fingers 
stray  over  the  keys.  In  a  hushed  little  voice  she 
began  to  sing: 

"  The  bird  so  free  in  the  heavens 
Is  but  the  slave  of  the  nest. 
For  all  things  must  toil  as  God  wills  it, 
Must  laugh  and  toil  and  rest. 
The  rose  must  bloom  in  the  garden, 
The  bee  must  gather  its  store. 
The  cat  must  watch  the  mousehole, 
And  the  dog  must  guard  the  door." 

"Oh!  "  she  broke  off  in  sudden  self-reproach. 
"  How  can  I  sit  here  singing, — at  a  time  like 
this!" 

"  Sing!  "  urged  the  Dead  Man.  "  Why  not? 
Why  not  at  a  time  like  this  as  well  as  at  any  other 


THE  RETURN  183 

time?  Is  it  because  you  are  afraid  you  are  not 
being  sad  enough  at  losing  me?  You  haven't 
lost  me.  Nothing  is  ever  lost.  The  old  uncle 
you  loved  doesn't  sleep  out  in  the  churchyard  dust. 
That  is  only  a  dream.  He  is  here — alive !  More 
alive  than  ever  he  was.  A  thousandfold  more 
alive.  All  his  age  and  weaknesses  and  faults  are 
gone.  Youth  is  glowing  in  his  heart.  He  is 
bathed  in  it.  It  radiates  from  him.  Eternal 
Youth  that  no  one  still  on  earth  can  know.  Oh, 
little  girl  of  mine,  if  only  I  could  tell  you  what 
is  ahead  of  you !  It's  the  wonderful  secret  of  the 
Universe.  And  you  won't  hear  me?  You  won't 
understand?  " 

Still  smiling,  but  without  turning  toward  the 
loving,  eager  Spirit  close  beside  her,  Kathrien  was 
looking  out  into  the  fragrant  June  dusk.  Peter 
Grimm  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  must  try  some  other  way  of  making  you 
hear,"  said  he. 

He  looked  up  at  the  closed  door  of  Willem's 
sick  room  for  a  moment,  then  nodded. 

"  Here  comes  some  one,"  he  announced,  with 
the  old  whimsical  twist  of  his  lips,  "  who  will  know 
all  about  it.  The  secrets  of  the  other  world  are  as 
plain  as  day  to  him.  He  has  told  me  so  himself." 


CHAPTER  XIV 
"  i  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS  " 

THE  door  of  Willem's  room  opened,  and  Dr. 
McPherson  came  out  on  the  landing.  He  moved 
slowly,  hesitatingly,  as  though  impelled  by  some 
force  outside  his  logical  comprehension. 

Still  walking  as  if  drawn  forward  half  against 
his  will,  the  doctor  descended  the  stairs  to  the 
big  living-room.  At  the  stair-foot  stood  Peter 
Grimm,  with  outstretched  hands  to  receive  him. 

"  Well,  Andrew,"  said  the  Dead  Man,  in  the 
tone  of  banter  that  had  never  in  life  failed  to  "  get 
a  rise  "  out  of  his  medical  crony,  "  I  apologise. 
You  were  right.  I  was  mistaken.  I  didn't  know 
what  I  was  talking  about.  So  I've  come  back,  as 
I  promised,  to  keep  our  compact  and  to  apologise. 
You  see,  I " 

"  Well,  Doctor,"  asked  Kathrien,  looking  back 
into  the  room  at  sound  of  McPherson's  steps, 
"how  is  Willem?" 

"  Better,"  answered  McPherson.  "  He's 
dropped  off  to  sleep  again.  I'm  still  a  bit  puzzled 

about  his  case.     It's " 

184 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         185 

"Andrew!  Andrew!"  interrupted  the  Dead 
Man,  almost  fiercely.  "  I've  got  a  message  to  de 
liver,  but  I  can't  get  it  across.  This  sort  of  thing 
is  your  own  beloved  specialty.  Now's  your 
chance.  The  chance  you've  always  been  longing 
for.  Tell  her  I  don't  want  her  to  marry  Frederik ! 
Tell  her  I " 

"  A  puzzling  condition,"  continued  McPherson, 
unhearing.  "  I  can't  quite  grasp  the  mean 
ing " 

"What  meaning?"  demanded  Peter  Grimm. 
"  Mine?  Try  again.  Tell  her  I  don't  want  her 

<T»  _____" 

"  But,"  went  on  McPherson,  drawing  out  pad 
and  fountain  pen,  "  I'll  leave  this  prescription  for 
one  of  the  gardeners  to  take  over  to  the  druggist's. 
I'll  leave  it  as  I  go  out.  I'll  be  back  in — Why, 
what's  up,  Kathrien ?  What  has  happened?  Oh, 
you've  thought  it  over,  eh  ?  That's  good.  That's 
the  way  it  should  be.  I  left  you  all  tears  and 
now  I  find  you  all  smiles.  It " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Kathrien,  half  ashamed  at  her 
own  oddly  changed  spirits.  "  I  am  happier  for 
some  reason.  Much,  much  happier  than  I've  been 
for  days  and  days.  I've — I've  had  such  a  strange 
feeling  this  past  few  minutes  I  " 


1 86       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"Have,  eh?"  asked  McPherson  curiously. 
"  H'm !  So  have  I.  It's  in  the  air,  I  suppose. 
I've  been  as  restless  as  a  hungry  mouse.  Some 
thing,  for  instance,  seemed  to  draw  me  downstairs 
here.  I  can't  explain  it." 

"  I  can,"  exulted  Peter  Grimm.  "  I'm  begin 
ning  to  be  felt!  " 

"  Doctor,"  hesitated  Kathrien,  looking  ner 
vously  about  her  into  the  dimmer  corners  of  the 
lamplit  room,  "  just  a  little  while  ago,  I — I 
thought  I  heard  Oom  Peter  call  me. — I  was  up 
stairs  in  my  room.  And  it  seemed  to  me  I  could 
hear  that  dear  old  call  he  used  to  give.  It  was 
so  vivid,  so  distinct,  so  real !  It  was  my  imagina 
tion,  of  course.  I'm  so  used  to  hearing  Oom 
Peter's  voice  in  this  room  that  sometimes  I  forget 
for  a  moment  that  he  isn't  here.  But — but  some 
one  must  have  called  me.  I  couldn't  have  imag 
ined  it  all.  Isn't  it  strange  to  hear  a  call  like  that 
and  then  look  around  and  find  no  one  is  there?  " 

"  It  is  a  phenomenon  well  recognised  in  mod 
ern  science,"  affirmed  McPherson.  "  I  could  cite 
you  a  hundred  instances  of  it.  Not  all  from  imag 
inative  persons  either,  Kathrien !  "  he  added  sol 
emnly.  "  I  have  the  firm  conviction  that  in  a  very 
short  time  I  shall  hear  from  Peter !  " 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         187 

"  I  hope  so,"  sighed  the  Dead  Man  in  whim 
sical  despair. 

"  He  made  the  compact  I  told  you  about,"  con 
tinued  McPherson,  "  and  Peter  Grimm  never 
broke  his  word.  He  will  come  back.  Be  sure  of 
that.  But  what  I  want  is  some  positive  proof, — 
some  absolute  test  to  prove  his  presence  when  he 
comes.  Poor  old  Peter!  Bless  his  kind,  obsti 
nate  heart!  If  he  keeps  that  compact  with  me 
and  comes  back,  do  you  know  what  I  shall  ask 
him  first?" 

"You  poor,  blind,  deaf,  old  Scotchman!" 
laughed  Peter  Grimm.  "  Open  your  eyes  and 
your  ears!  You  are  like  the  man  who 
lay  down  at  the  edge  of  the  river  and  died  of 
thirst." 

"  What  would  you  ask  him  first,  Doctor? " 
queried  the  girl  as  McPherson  paused  with  dra 
matic  effect,  awaiting  the  question. 

"  First  of  all,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  shall  ask 
him :  '  Peter,  in  the  next  world  does  our  work  go 
on  just  where  we  left  it  off  here? ' 

"Well,"  returned  Peter  Grimm  thoughtfully, 
"  that  question  is  rather  a  poser,  isn't  it?" 

"  It  is  a  difficult  question  to  answer,  I  admit,'* 
mused  McPherson,  following  what  he  deemed  to 


1 88       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

be  the  trend  of  his  own  thoughts.  "  I  realise 
that." 

"You  heard  me?"  cried  the  Dead  Man, 
with  sudden  excitement.  "  You  heard?  Come  1 
We're  getting  results  at  last,  you  and  I !  " 

"  Results,"  murmured  the  doctor  abstractedly, 

"are What  was  I  saying?  Oh,  yes.  In 

the  life-to-come,  for  instance,  am  I  to  be  a  bone- 
setter  and  is  he  to  keep  on  being  a  tulip  man  ?  " 

"  It  stands  to  reason,  Andrew,  doesn't  it  ?  " 
suggested  Peter  Grimm.  "  What  chance  would  a 
beginner  have  with  a  fellow  who  knew  his  business 
before  he  was  born?  Hey?" 

With  the  merrily  victorious  air  that  he  had  ever 
assumed  when  he  had  scored  a  telling  point  in 
their  old-time  discussions,  Peter  surveyed  the 
doctor. 

"  I  believe,  Katje,"  mused  McPherson  after  a 
moment's  consideration,  "  that  it  is  possible  to 
have  more  than  one  chance  at  our  life  work.  It 
never  occurred  to  me  before,  but " 

"  There !  "  exclaimed  the  Dead  Man.  "  You 
caught  that!  Now,  why  can't  you  get  that  mes 
sage  about  Kathrien's  marriage?  Try,  man! 
Try!" 

"  Kathrien,"  said  McPherson,  suddenly  shifting 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         189 

from  conjecture  to  everyday  conditions,  "  have 
you  thought  over  what  I  said  to  you  about  this 
marriage  with  Frederik?  " 

"  He  did  get  it!  "  muttered  Peter  Grimm. 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Kathrien,  "  I  have  thought  it 
over,  Doctor.  And  I  thank  you  with  all  my 
heart.  But " 

"Well?" 

"  I  shall  go  on  with  it.  I  shall  be  married,  just 
as  Oom  Peter  wished  me  to.  I  shan't  go  back 
on  my  promise." 

McPherson  growled  in  futile  disgust. 

"Don't  give  up,  Andrew!"  exhorted  Peter 
Grimm.  "  Don't  give  up !  Make  her  see  it  your 
way.  A  girl  can  always  change  her  mind.  Try 
again.  Andrew! " 

The  last  word  was  almost  a  cry.  For  McPher 
son,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  accepted  defeat 
in  surly  silence  and  was  tramping  across  to  the  hat 
rack,  where  he  began  to  gather  up  his  outdoor 
raiment. 

"  Oh,  Andrew !  Andrew!  "  he  pleaded,  follow 
ing  him  up.  "  Don't  throw  away  the  fight  so 
easily!  Tell  her  to " 

"  Good-bye,  Kathrien,"  said  the  doctor  at  the 
threshold.  "  If  you  choose  to  make  toad-pie  of 


190       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

your  life,  it's  no  business  of  mine.  I'll  drop  in 
later  for  a  good-night  look  at  Willem." 

"  Good-night,  Doctor,"  answered  Kathrien, 
"  and — thank  you  again." 

With  a  wordless  grunt,  McPherson  went  out, 
leaving  Peter  Grimm  staring  hopelessly  after  him. 

"  I  see  I  can't  depend  on  you,  Andrew,"  mur 
mured  the  Dead  Man,  "  in  spite  of  your  psychic 
lore  and  your  belief  in  my  return.  Why  is  it  they 
can  all  understand — or  half  understand — the  un 
important  things  I  say,  and  yet  be  deaf  to  my 
message?  It  is  like  picking  out  the  simple  words 
in  a  foreign  book  and  then  not  know  what  the  story 
is  about.  Marta — Kathrien — McPherson — they 
all  fail  me.  I  must  find  some  other  way." 

He  turned  slowly  toward  the  door  of  the  office. 
[The  door  almost  immediately  opened  and  James 
Hartmann  came  into  the  room.  The  young  man 
had  a  pen  behind  his  ear  and  a  half-written  mem 
orandum  of  sales  in  his  hand.  He  had  evidently 
risen  from  his  work  and  entered  the  living-room 
on  an  unplanned  impulse. 

Kathrien  had  seated  herself  in  a  chair  by  the 
fire  and  was  gazing  drearily  into  the  red 
embers. 

"Look  at  her,  lad!"  breathed  Peter  Grimm. 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         191 

"  She  is  so  pretty — so  young — so  lonely!  Look! 
There  are  kisses  tangled  in  that  gold  hair  of  hers 
where  it  curls  about  her  forehead  and  neck.  Hun 
dreds  of  them.  And  her  lips  are  made  for  kisses. 
See  how  dainty  and  sweet  and  heart-broken  she  is. 
She  is  dreaming  of  you,  James.  Are  you  going 
to  let  her  go  ?  Why,  who  could  resist  such  a  girl? 
You're  not  going  to  let  her  go!  You  feel  what 
I  am  saying  to  you.  You  won't  give  her  up. 
She  loves  you,  boy.  And  you  realise  now  that 
you  can't  live  without  her.  Speak!  Speak  to 
her!" 

"Miss  Kathrien!"  said  Hartmann  earnestly; 
then  halted,  frightened  at  his  own  temerity. 

The  girl  looked  up  quickly.  At  sight  of  him 
she  flushed  and  rose  impulsively  to  face  him. 

"  Oh,  James !  "  she  cried.  "  I'm  so  glad — so 
glad  to  see  you !  " 

As  their  hands  met  the  man's  hesitancy  fled. 

"  I  felt  that  you  were  in  here,"  said  he.  "  All 
at  once  I  seemed  to  know  you  were  here  and  alone. 
And  before  I  realised  what  I  was  doing,  I  came 
in.  I  didn't  mean  to." 

"  Didn't  mean  to  come  and  see  me  while  you 
were  here?"  she  echoed  in  reproach.  "Why 
not?" 


192       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  For  the  same  reason  I  didn't  stay  when  I  was 
here  before.  I " 

"Why  did  you  go  away  that  time?"  she  de 
manded.  "  Why  did  you  go  without  a  word  of 
good-bye  to — to  any  of  us?  " 

"  Tell  her,  boy,"  adjured  Peter  Grimm. 
"  Don't  mind  my  feelings." 

*'  Your  uncle  sent  me  away,"  blurted  Hartmann, 
"  but  it  was  partly  at  my  own  request." 

"  Oom  Peter  sent  you  away?     Why?  " 

"  I  told  him  the  truth  again." 

"  Oh !  One  of  your  usual  hot  arguments  that 
used  to  worry  me  so?  I  remember  how  excited 
you  both  used  to  get.  Was  it  about  the  superi 
ority  of  potatoes  to  orchids  this  time?" 

"  No.  The  superiority  of  one  person  to  the 
whole  world." 

But  she  did  not  catch  his  meaning.  She  was 
looking  up  at  the  big  athletic  body  and  the  clean, 
strong  face,  with  an  absurd  longing  to  creep  into 
the  man's  arms  for  shelter  as  might  a  tired  child. 

"  It's  so  good  to  see  you  back,"  she  said. 

"  I'm  only  here  for  a  few  hours,"  he  answered. 
"  Just  long  enough  to  put  one  or  two  details  of 
the  business  to  rights.  Then  I'm  going  away 
again — this  time  for  good." 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         193 


.. 


No!     Where  are  you  going?" 

"  Father  and  I  are  going  to  try  our  luck  on 
our  own  account.  I've  a  few  thousands  from  a 
legacy  that  came  to  me  last  month  from  my  grand 
mother.  And  father  has  saved  a  tidy  little  sum, 
too.  We're  going  to  start  in  with  small  fruits 
and  market  gardening.  We  haven't  decided  just 
where." 

"  It  will  be  so  strange — so  different — so  lonely 
and  empty  when  I  come  back,"  she  mourned, 
"  with  Uncle  and  you  both  gone.  It  seems  as  if 
the  blessed  old  home  was  all  broken  up.  It  can 
never  be  the  same  again.  I  don't  know  how  I  can 
muster  courage  to  come  into  this  house  after " 

"  It  will  be  easier  after  the  first  wrench.  Every 
thing  is  easier  than  we  think  it's  going  to  be.  And, 
Kathrien,"  he  went  on,  steadying  his  voice  by  a 
supreme  effort,  "  I  hope  you'll  be  happy — beauti 
fully  happy." 

Neither  of  them  realised  that  her  hand  had 
somehow  slipped  into  his  and  was  resting  very 
contentedly  in  the  big,  firm  grasp. 

"  Whether  I'm  happy  or  not,"  replied  Kathrien 
miserably,  "  it's  the  only  thing  to  do.  Please  try 
to  believe  that.  Oh,  James,  he  died  smiling  at 
me — thinking  of  me — loving  me.  And  just  be- 


194      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

fore  he  went  he  had  begged  me  to  marry  Frederik. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  wonderful  look  of  happi 
ness  in  his  eyes  when  I  promised.  It  was  all  he 
wanted  in  life.  He  said  he'd  never  been  so  happy 
before.  He  smiled  up  at  me  for  the  very  last 
time,  with  his  dear  face  all  alight.  And  there  he 
sat,  smiling,  after  he  was  gone.  The  smile  of  a 
man  leaving  this  life  absolutely  satisfied — at 
peace !  " 

"  I  know.     Marta  told  me.     I " 

"  It's  like  a  hand  on  my  heart,  hurting  it  almost 
unbearably  when  I  question  doing  anything  he 
wanted.  It  has  always  been  so  with  me  ever  since 
I  was  a  baby.  I  never  could  bear  to  go  against 
his  wishes.  And  now  that  he's  gone — why,  I 
must  keep  my  word.  I  couldn't  meet  him  in  the 
Hereafter  if  I  didn't  keep  that  last  sacred  promise 
to  him.  I  couldn't  say  my  prayers  at  night.  I 
couldn't  speak  his  name  in  them.  Oom  Peter 
trusted  me.  He  depended  on  me.  He  did  every 
thing  for  me.  I  must  do  this  for  him." 

"  No,  no !  "  exclaimed  the  Dead  Man.  "  You 
are  wrong.  Tell  her  so,  James !  " 

"  I  wanted  you  to  know  this,  James,"  finished 
Kathrien,  "  because — because " 

A  gush  of  tears  blotted  out  Hartmann's  tense, 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         195 

wretched  face  and  choked  her  hesitating  utterance. 

"  Have  you  told  Frederik  that  you  don't  love 
him?"  asked  Hartmann,  forcing  himself  to  resist 
the  yearning  to  gather  her  into  his  arms  and  kiss 
away  her  tears.  "  Does  he  know?  " 

She  nodded,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 

"And  Frederik  is  willing  to  take  you  like 
that?  On  those  terms ?" 

Another  dumb  nod  of  the  pretty,  fluffy  little 
head,  with  its  face  still  convulsed  and  hidden. 

"  The  yellow  dog !  "  burst  forth  Hartmann. 

"  You  flatter  him,"  sadly  assented  Peter  Grimm. 

"  Look  here,  Kathrien,"  hurried  on  Hartmann, 
"  I  didn't  mean  to  say  a  word  of  this  to-day, — or 
ever.  Not  a  word.  But  the  instant  I  came  in 
here  from  the  office  just  now,  something  made  me 
change  my  mind.  I  knew  all  at  once  I  must  talk 
to  you.  You  looked  so  little,  so  young,  so  help 
less,  all  huddled  up  there  by  the  fire.  Kathrien, 
you've  never  had  to  think  for  yourself.  You  don't 
know  what  you  are  doing  in  going  on  with  this 
blasphemous,  loveless  marriage.  Why,  dear,  you 
are  making  the  most  terrible  mistake  possible  to 
a  woman.  Marriage  with  love  is  often  a  tragedy. 
Without  love  it  is  a  hell.  A  horror  that  will 
deepen  and  grow  more  dreadful  with  every  year." 


196       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"Do  you  suppose  I  don't  understand  that?" 
she  whispered.  "  Don't  make  it  harder  for  me." 

"  Your  uncle  was  wrong  to  ask  such  a  sacrifice. 
Why  should  you  wreck  your  life  to  carry  out  his 
pig-headed  plans?  " 

"Oh!" 

"  Not  strong  enough  yet,"  advised  Peter 
Grimm.  "  Go  on,  lad." 

"  You  are  going  to  be  wretched  for  the  rest  of 
your  days,  just  to  please  a  dead  man  who  can't 
even  know  about  it,"  insisted  Hartmann.  "  Or 
if  he  does  know,  you  may  be  certain  he  sees  the 
affair  more  sanely  by  this  time  and  is  bitterly  sorry 
he  made  you  promise." 

"He  assuredly  is,"  acquiesced  Peter  Grimm. 
"  I  wish  I'd  known  in  other  days  that  you  had 
so  much  sense.  Go  ahead !  " 

"  You  mustn't  speak  so,  James,"  reproved  Kath- 
rien,  deeply  shocked.  "  I " 

"  Yes,  he  must,"  contradicted  the  Dead  Man. 
"  Go  on,  James.  Stronger!  " 

"But  I  must  speak  so!"  declared  Hartmann, 
swept  on  by  a  power  he  could  not  understand. 
"  I'll  speak  my  mind.  I  don't  care  how  fond  you 
were  of  your  uncle  or  how  much  he  did  for  you. 
It  was  not  right  for  him  to  ask  this  sacrifice  of 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         197 

you.  ,The  whole  thing  was  the  blunder  of  an 
obstinate  old  man !  " 

"No!     You  mustn't!" 

"  I  loved  him,  too,"  said  Hartmann.  "  As 
much  in  my  own  way,  perhaps,  as  you  did. 
Though  he  and  I  never  agreed  on  any  subject 
under  the  sun.  But,  in  spite  of  all  my  affection 
for  him,  I  know  and  always  knew  he  was  an 
obstinate  old  man.  Obstinate  as  a  mule.  It  was 
the  Dutch  in  him,  I  suppose." 

Peter  Grimm  nodded  emphatic  approval. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  was  sent  away?  "  rushed 
on  Hartmann,  still  upheld  and  goaded  along  by 
that  incomprehensible  impulse.  "  Do  you  know 
why  I  quarrelled  with  your  uncle?" 

"No." 

"  Because  I  told  him  I  loved  you.  He  asked 
me.  I  didn't  tell  him  because  I  had  any  hopes. 
I  hadn't.  I  haven't  now.  Oh,  girl,  I  don't  know 
why  I'm  talking  to  you  like  this.  I  love  you. 
And  my  arms  are  aching  for  you." 

He  stepped  toward  her,  arms  out  as  he  spoke. 
She  retreated,  frightened,  to  where  Peter  Grimm 
stood  surveying  the  lover  with  keen  approbation. 

"  No,  no ! "  she  warned.  "  You  mustn't, 
James.  It  isn't  right — don't." 


198       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Her  next  backward  step  brought  her  close  to 
Peter  Grimm.  And  the  Dead  Man,  with  a  swift 
motion  of  his  hand,  waved  her  forward  into  her 
lover's  outstretched  arms. 

Through  no  conscious  volition  of  her  own, 
Kathrien  sped  straight  onward,  unswerving,  un 
faltering  into  the  strong  circle  of  those  arms  for 
whose  warm  refuge  she  had  so  guiltily  felt  herself 
longing. 

"  No !  "  she  panted,  in  dutiful  resistance. 

But  the  negation  was  lost  against  Hart- 
mann's  broad  breast  as  he  pressed  her  closely  to 
him. 

"  I  love  you !  "  he  repeated  over  and  over  in  a 
daze  of  rapture. 

Then  in  awed  wonder: 

"  And  you  love  me,  Kathrien !  " 

"  No,  no — don't  make  me  say  it,  dear  heart!  " 

"  I  shall  make  you  say  it.  It  is  true.  You 
do  love  me !  " 

"  What  matter  if  I  do?  "  wailed  the  girl.  "  It 
wouldn't  change  matters." 

"Kathrien!" 

"  Please  don't  say  anything  more.  I  can't  bear 
it." 

Gently,  reluctantly,  she  sought  to  release  herself 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         199 

from  that  wonderful  embrace.  But  Hartmann 
now  needed  no  Spirit  Guest  to  urge  him  to  hold 
his  own. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  go,"  he  cried,  kiss 
ing  her  white,  upturned  face  till  the  red  glowed 
back  into  it.  "  I  won't  give  you  up,  Kathrien. 
I  won't  give  you  up !  " 

"  You  must,"  she  insisted,  struggling  more 
fiercely  against  herself  than  against  him.  "  You 
must,  dear.  I  can't  break  my  promise  to  Oom 
Peter.  I " 

The  front  door  opened.  The  lovers  sprang 
apart.  Frederik  entered,  glancing  quickly  from 
one  to  the  other  of  them. 

"Oh!"  he  observed.  "You  in  here,  Hart 
mann?  I  thought  I'd  find  you  in  the  office.  I've 
some  unopened  mail  of  my  uncle's  to  glance  over. 
Then  I'll  join  you  there." 

Hartmann  took  the  broad  hint,  nodded,  and 
left  the  room.  Frederik's  eyes  followed  him 
steadily  until  the  door  closed  behind  the  young 
intruder.  Then  he  turned  to  where  Kathrien 
crouched,  panting,  bewildered,  trembling.  Fred 
erik  abruptly  went  over  to  her,  and,  before  she 
could  guess  his  purpose,  kissed  her  full  on  the 
lips. 


200       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Involuntarily  the  girl  recoiled  as  from  some 
loathly  thing. 

"  Don't !  "  she  exclaimed,  fighting  for  her 
shaken  self-control.  "Please  don't!" 

"  Why  not?  "  he  snapped. 

She  did  not  answer. 

"Has  Hartmann  been  talking  to  you?" 

She  moved  toward  the  stairfoot. 

"  Just  a  moment,  please,"  Frederik  interposed, 
hurrying  forward  to  catch  up  with  her  before 
she  could  gain  the  safety  of  the  stairway. 

"  Hartmann  has  been  talking  to  you.  What 
has  he  been  saying?  " 

He  had  seized  her  hand  as  she  made  to  mount 
the  stairway.  As  she  did  not  reply  to  his  ques 
tion,  he  repeated  it,  adding: 

"  Do  you  really  imagine,  Kathrien,  that  you 
care  for  that — fellow?  " 

"  I'd  rather  not  talk  about  it,  please,  Frederik," 
she  pleaded. 

"No?     But  it  is  necessary.     Do  you " 

She  broke  away  from  his  suddenly  rough  grip 
and  fled  up  the  stairway  to  her  own  room.  As 
the  door  shut  behind  her,  Frederik,  with  clouded 
face  and  working  lips,  strode  over  to  the  desk. 
He  passed  close  by  Peter  Grimm.  But  the  Dead 


"I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS"         201 

Man   was   still   staring   blankly   after    Kathrien. 

"  Oh,  Katje,"  he  muttered,  "  even  Love  could 
not  get  my  message  to  you !  Less  influence  would 
be  needed  to  change  the  fate  of  a  nation  than  the 
mind  of  one  good  woman.  I  think  a  good  woman 
— a  good  woman, — is  more  stubborn  than  any 
thing  else  in  the  Universe.  Not  excepting  myself. 
When  she  has  made  up  her  mind  to  do  right, — 
which  invariably  means  to  sacrifice  herself  and 
thereby  make  as  many  other  people  wretched  as 
possible — not  even  a  Spirit  from  the  Other  World 
can  influence  her." 

With  a  despairing  shrug  of  the  shoulders  he 
turned  toward  his  nephew,  and  his  face  hardened. 
Frederik  had  seated  himself  at  the  desk.  He 
had  drawn  out  the  little  handful  of  personal  letters 
that  had  arrived  that  afternoon  for  Peter  Grimm 
and  those  that  Mrs.  Batholommey  had  put  into  the 
drawer  for  safe  keeping. 

One  letter  after  another  Frederik  cut  open, 
glanced  over,  and  either  put  back  into  the  drawer 
or  laid  under  a  paperweight  on  the  desk.  Peter 
Grimm  crossed  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  desk 
and  stood  looking  down  at  him  with  set  face 
and  sad,  reproving  gaze. 

"  Frederik  Grimm,"   said   the   Dead   Man   at 


202       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

last,  his  voice  low  but  infinitely  impressive,  "  my 
beloved  nephew !  You  sit  there  opening  my  mail 
with  the  heart  of  a  stone.  You  are  saying  to 
yourself:  'He  is  gone;  there  will  be  fine  times 
ahead.'  But  there  is  one  thing  you  have  for 
gotten,  Frederik:  The  Law  of  Reward  and  Pun 
ishment.  Your  hour  has  come — to  think!" 

Frederik,  unheeding,  continued  to  open,  read, 
and  sort  the  letters  before  him. 

At  the  Dead  Man's  last  words,  his  nephew 
picked  from  the  heap  a  blue  envelope,  ripped  it 
open,  and  pulled  out  the  enclosures: — a  single 
sheet  of  blue  paper  and  a  cheap  photograph. 

"Oh,  my  God!  Oh,  my  God!"  he  babbled 
over  and  over,  foolishly,  staring  from  letter  to 
photograph.  "Here's  luck!  What  luck  it  is! 
Anne  Marie  to  my  uncle!  Lord \  If  he'd  lived 
to  read  it!  If  he  had  read  it!  Out  I'd  have 
been  kicked  !  One  —  two  —  three  —  Augenblick! 
Out  into  the  street !  Oh,  what  unbelievable  luck ! 
If  she'd  written  to  him  ten  days  earlier!  Ten 
little  days !  " 

His  hand  shaking,  he  picked  up  the  letter  again, 
spread  it  wide,  and  began  to  read  it,  Peter  Grimm 
standing  behind  him,  looking  over  the  reader's 
shoulder. 


"Who's  in  the  room!"  he  demanded 


"  I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS  "         203 

"  Dear  Mr.  Grimm,"  the  letter  ran,  "  I  have 
not  written  because  I  can't  help  Willem.  And  I 
am  ashamed.  Don't  be  too  hard  upon  me,  sir, 
in  your  thoughts.  At  first  I  often  went  hungry. 
And  then  the  few  pennies  I  had  saved  for  him 
were  spent.  Now  I  see  that  I  can  never  hope 
to  get  him  back.  Willem  is  far  better  off  with 
you.  I  know  he  is.  But,  oh,  how  I  wish  I  could 
just  see  him  again!  Once.  Perhaps  I  could 
come  there  in  the  night  time  and  no  one  would 
know " 

"  Oh !  "  breathed  Peter  Grimm,  between  tight 
clenched  teeth.  "  The  pity  of  it !  The  pity  of  it !  " 

"Who's  that?"  cried  Frederik,  looking  up 
with  a  start  of  terror  from  his  perusal  of  the 
letter. 

The  young  man  peered  about  the  shadows  be 
yond  the  radius  of  the  lamp,  a  nervous  dread  at 
his  heart. 

"  Who's  in  the  room !  "  he  demanded,  glanc 
ing  behind  him. 

Then  with  a  self-contemptuous  shake  of  his  head 
he  muttered  angrily: 

"  That's  queer.  I  could  have  sworn  somebody 
was  looking  over  my  shoulder.  Bah!  My 
nerves  are  going  bad !  " 


204       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

He  returned  to  the  reading  of  the  letter. 

"  I  met  some  one  from  home  to-day,"  went  on 
Anne  Marie's  epistle.  "  If  there's  any  truth  in 
the  rumour  that  Kathrien  is  going  to  marry  Fred- 
erik,  it  mustn't  be,  Mr.  Grimm.  It  must  not. 
She  must  not  marry  him.  For  Frederik  is  my 
little  boy's  fa " 

"  There  is  some  one  here !  "  muttered  Frederik, 
laying  down  the  letter. 

Calming  his  disordered  nerves  once  more,  he 
glanced  furtively  up  toward  Willem's  room  in 
the  bedroom  gallery  above  his  head.  Then  he 
picked  up  the  photograph  and  looked  at  it  long 
with  eyes  full  of  trouble  and  apprehension.  It 
was  the  full-length  cabinet  likeness  of  a  plainly 
dressed  young  woman  with  a  pretty,  slack  face. 
And  the  face's  weakness  was  half  redeemed  by 
a  stamp  of  settled  sadness  that  was  not  devoid 
of  a  certain  dignity. 

Frederik  turned  the  photograph  over.  On  the 
back  he  read: 

"For  my  little  boy,  from  Anne  Marie." 

His  mouth  twitched.  Throngs  of  memories 
were  crowding  in  upon  him.  And  the  eyes  of 
the  Dead  Man  were  boring  to  his  very  soul. 
Something  very  like  Conscience  was  stirring  within 


"  I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS  "         205 

him.  He  laid  the  photograph  face  downward 
on  the  table  and  he  bent  his  head  forward  upon 
his  hands. 

The  young  man  was  not  a  melodrama  villain. 
He  was  not  even  a  scoundrel,  in  the  broad  sense 
of  the  term.  Weak,  lazy,  pleasure  loving,  he 
was  what  Peter  Grimm  had  all  unconsciously  made 
him.  As  a  dilettante,  a  man  of  leisure,  or  even 
comfortably  engaged  in  some  easy,  congenial  life 
work  and  with  pleasant  home  surroundings,  he 
would  probably  have  developed  few  undesirable 
traits. 

From  boyhood  he  had  been  under  the  influence 
and  orders  of  Peter  Grimm.  To  be  under  Peter 
Grimm's  supervision  entailed  one  of  three  courses, 
according  to  the  character  of  the  person  concerned: 
either  to  yield  gracefully  and  gratefully  to  the  old 
man's  kindly  but  iron  domination  and  find  therein 
love  and  protection, — as  had  Kathrien;  or  to  use 
the  right  of  personal  thought  and  individuality, 
and  therefore  to  clash  forever  with  Peter, — as 
had  James  Hartmann;  or  to  seem  for  policy's 
sake  to  bend,  while  really  living  one's  own  life; — 
as  had  Frederik. 

Peter  Grimm  was  the  slave  and  apostle  of 
Order,  Work,  and  Method.  Frederik  loved  ease, 


2o6       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

luxury,  artistic  surroundings.  Yet  he  was  too  wise 
to  antagonise  his  uncle,  who  had  the  power  to  leave 
him  one  day  the  master  of  all  these  pleasant  things 
he  craved.  So  he  had  adapted  himself  outwardly 
to  a  path  he  loathed.  And,  by  the  wayside,  he 
had  secretly  sought  such  pleasures  as  his  nature 
craved. 

Anne  Marie  had  chanced  to  be  by  the  wayside. 

What  had  followed  was  rendered  tragic  chiefly 
by  Anne  Marie's  innate  goodness  and  by  Peter 
Grimm's  fierce  morality. 

Frederik  dared  not  risk  the  loss  of  a  future 
fortune  by  admitting  his  fault  or  by  marrying 
the  woman  for  whom,  at  the  time,  he  had  really 
cared.  In  a  shiftless  way  and  with  straitly  lim 
ited  income,  he  had  done  what  he  could  do  for 
her.  The  sacrifices  these  helps  had  entailed  and 
the  constant  fear  of  exposure  and  of  consequent 
disinheritance  had  in  time  made  the  thought  of 
Anne  Marie  a  horror  to  him. 

When  he  had  gone,  at  Peter  Grimm's  com 
mand,  to  Leyden  and  Heidelberg  to  study  botany, 
Frederik  had  hoped  to  close  the  unsavoury  in 
cident  for  all  time. 

On  his  return  he  had  found  Willem  installed 
at  the  Grimm  home,  a  living,  ever-present  menace 


"  I  CAN'T  GET  IT  ACROSS  "         207 

and  reminder  to  him.  And,  despite  a  soft  heart 
and  a  normally  decent  nature,  Frederik  had,  little 
by  little,  been  forced  by  his  own  past  and  his  own 
hopes  into  a  course  that  at  times  was  hateful  to 
him.  Ten  thousand  men,  far  worse  than  he,  walk 
the  streets  of  every  big  city  and  sleep  snug  o' 
nights  with  no  grinning  Conscience-Skull  to  break 
their  rest.  A  thousand  well-meaning,  harmless 
sons  of  dominating  and  domineering  parents  are 
forced,  as  was  he,  into  by-roads  as  hateful  to  them. 
To  be  cast  by  Fate  to  enact  the  Villain,  when  one 
has  not  the  temperament,  the  aptitude,  nor  the 
desire  for  the  unsavoury  role,  falls  to  more  men's 
lot  than  the  world  realises. 

It  had  fallen  to  Frederik  Grimm's.  Where 
fore,  sick  at  heart,  he  sat  with  his  head  in  his 
hands.  And  Peter  Grimm  read  his  thoughts  as 
from  a  printed  page. 

"  Once  more  a  spark  of  manhood  is  alight  in 
your  soul,"  whispered  the  Dead  Man.  "  It  is 
not  too  late.  Nothing  is  ever  too  late.  Turn 
back!" 

Frederik  looked  up,  half-listening.  His  hand 
crept  out  to  the  letter. 

"  Follow  the  impulse  that  is  in  your  heart," 
begged  the  Dead  Man.  "  Follow  it !  Take  the 


2o8       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

little  boy  in  your  arms.  Declare  him  to  all  the 
world  as  your  own.  Go  down  on  your  knees 
and  ask  his  mother's  forgiveness.  Ah,  do  it,  lad, 
so  that  I  can  go  back  still  trusting  you, — still  be 
lieving  in  you, — blessing  you!  Frederikf" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Frederik,  starting  up. 
"What  is  it?" 

He  glanced  about  the  room  unseeingly,  then 
looked  toward  the  outer  door  and  called : 

"  Come  in !  " 

"  That's  curious !  "  he  mused,  settling  back  in 
his  chair.  "  I  thought  I  heard  some  one  at — 
Who's  at  the  door?"  he  called  again. 

"/  am  at  the  door,"  replied  the  Dead  Man 
in  solemn  vehemence.  "  /,  Peter  Grimm.  The 
uncle  who  loved  you  and  whom  you  tricked. 
Anne  Marie  is  at  the  door, — the  little  girl  who 
is  ashamed  to  come  home.  Willem  is  at  the  door 
— your  own  flesh  and  blood — nameless!  Katje, 
sobbing  her  heart  out, — James — all  of  us.  All! 
We  are  all  at  the  door,  Frederik!  At  the  door 
of  your  conscience.  Ah,  don't  keep  us  waiting!  " 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  HALF-HEARD   MESSAGE 

FREDERIK  rose  slowly  from  his  chair.  His  face 
was  working.  Instinctively  his  glance  lifted  to 
Kathrien's  door.  His  eyes  grew  bright  and  his 
weak  mouth  strong  with  a  wondrous  resolve.  He 
crossed  the  room  to  the  stair-foot;  that  light  of 
pure  sacrifice  deepening  in  his  whole  upraised 
face. 

"  Yes !  "  urged  the  Dead  Man,  keeping  eager 
pace  with  him  in  body  and  in  thought.  "  Yes ! 
Call  her.  Give  her  back  her  promise." 

The  flabby  muscles  of  a  self-indulgent  man  may 
sometimes  perform  a  single  prodigious  feat  of 
strength.  Wherein  they  have  an  infinite  advan 
tage  over  the  far  flabbier  resolutions  of  a  self- 
indulgent  man.  And  Frederik  Grimm's  weak, 
atrophied  better  self  was  not  equal  to  the  strain 
thrown  upon  it. 

At  the  stair-foot,  his  step  faltered.  He  halted 
irresolutely,  while  the  Dead  Man  watched  him 
in  an  anguish  of  hope  and  fear. 

Then  came  surrender  to  long  habit;  and  with 
209 


210       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

it  a  gush  of  weak  rage.  Not  at  himself.  He 
had  not  the  strength  left  for  that.  But  at  the 
cause  of  his  distress.  He  brought  down  his  fist 
upon  the  desk  with  a  resounding  thwack.  His 
eye  fell  on  the  open  page  with  its  pathetic  scrawl 
of  appeal. 

"  Damn  her!  "  he  growled,  snatching  up  the 
letter  and  tearing  it  across  and  across.  "  I  wish 
to  God  I'd  never  seen  her  I  " 

Peter  Grimm  gazed  down  upon  him  with  eyes 
wherein  lurked  a  slowly  rising  fire. 

"  Frederik  Grimm !  "  commanded  the  Dead 
Man.  "  Get  up  I  Stand  up  before  me !  Stand 
up,  I  say!  " 

Frederik  made  as  though  to  rise,  then  swore 
under  his  breath  and  sat  down  again. 

"  Stand  up !  "  flashed  the  Dead   Man. 

Frederik  got  shamblingly  to  his  feet,  and 
looked  around  with  a  frown,  as  though  wonder 
ing  why  he  had  risen.  His  gaze  swept  the  desk 
for  some  cause  for  his  action,  then  rested  moodily 
on  the  dying  embers  in  the  hearth. 

The  Dead  Man  at  the  far  side  of  the  desk 
confronted  him  like  some  unearthly  Judge  from 
whose  heart  pity,  humanity,  and  all  else  but  rght- 
eous  wrath  were  banished. 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  211 

"  You  shall  not  have  my  little  girl !  "  thundered 
Peter  Grimm.  "  I  have  come  back  to  take  her 
away  from  you.  And  you  cannot  put  me  to  rest. 
I  have  come  back.  You  cannot  drive  me  from 
your  thoughts." 

He  touched  Frederik's  damp  forehead  with  his 
forefinger. 

"  I  am  there"  he  said.  "  I  am  looking  over 
your  shoulder  as  you  read  or  write  or  think.  I 
am  looking  in  at  the  window  when  you  deem 
you  are  alone  and  unseen.  /  have  come  back. 
You  are  breathing  me  in  the  air.  I  am  hammer 
ing  at  your  heart  in  each  of  your  pulse  beats. 
Wherever  you  are,  I  am  there." 

His  forced  calmness  gave  way  to  a  gust  of 
helpless  rage  as  he  felt  his  words  falling  upon 
world-deafened  ears. 

"  Hear  me !  "  he  commanded  furiously.  "  Hear 
me !  You  shall  hear  me !  " 

At  each  frenzied  repetition  of  the  command, 
the  Dead  Man  hurled  his  arms  aloft  and  brought 
down  his  clenched  fist  with  all  his  power  upon 
the  desk  in  mighty  blows  of  utterly  soundless 
violence. 

Impotently  he  cried  aloud: 

"  Oh,  will  no  one  hear  me?     Has  my  journey 


212       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

been  all  in  vain?  Has  it  been  useless? — worse 
than  useless?  " 

The  Dead  Man  looked  upward,  in  an  anguish 
of  desperation.  He  seemed  to  be  entreating  the 
Unseen  in  his  clamour  of  wild,  hopeless  appeal. 

"Has  it  all  been  for  nothing?"  he  wailed. 
"  Must  we  forever  stand  or  fall  by  the  mistakes 
we  make  in  this  world?  Is  there  no  second 
chance  ?  " 

Frederik  shook  his  head  angrily  as  though  to 
banish  clinging  unwelcome  thoughts  from  his 
brain,  got  up  and  crossed  to  the  sideboard,  where 
he  poured  himself  a  double  drink  of  liquor  and 
swigged  it  down  with  feverish  eagerness. 

As  he  left  the  desk,  Marta  entered  from  the 
kitchen  with  the  light  supper  he  had  ordered: — 
coffee,  with  sugar  and  cream,  and  a  plate  of  little 
cakes.  She  went  to  the  desk  and  began  clearing 
a  space  among  the  scattered  papers  for  the  supper 
tray.  As  her  free  hand  moved  among  the  papers, 
the  Dead  Man  was  at  her  elbow. 

"  Marta !  "  he  whispered,  as  though  fear 
ing  his  words  might  reach  Frederik.  "Look! 
Look!" 

He  pointed  excitedly  to  the  torn  letter  and 
the  photograph  that  lay  face  downward  under 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  213 

her  hand.  And  she  picked  up  both  letter  and 
picture,  to  make  room  for  the  tray. 

"  Marta !  "  urged  the  Dead  Man,  almost  in 
coherent  in  his  wild  haste.  "  See  what  you  have 
there !  Look  down  at  that  picture  in  your  hand ! 
Turn  it  over  and  look  at  it!  Look  at  the  hand 
writing  on  that  torn  letter !  Look  quickly !  Then 
run  with  them  to  Miss  Kathrien.  Make  her  piece 
the  letter  together  and  read  it !  Quick !  It's  the 
only  way  she  can  learn  the  truth.  Frederik  will 
never  tell  her.  Marta! — Ah!" 

His  wild  plea  broke  off  in  a  cry  of  chagrin. 
For  Frederik,  turning  from  the  sideboard,  had 
seen  the  old  woman. 

"  Your  coffee,  Mynheer  Frederik,"  said  she, 
laying  down  the  photograph  and  letter  without  a 
glance  at  them. 

"  Yes,  yes.  Of  course,"  answered  Frederik. 
"I  forgot.  Thanks." 

She  turned  to  leave  the  room.  Frederik,  com 
ing  over  to  the  desk,  caught  sight  of  the  torn 
blue  envelope  and  the  picture,  where  she  had  laid 
them. 

Hurriedly  covering  them  with  his  hand,  he 
glanced  at  her  in  quick,  terrified  suspicion.  But 
the  face  she  turned  to  him  as  she  hesitated  for  a 


2i4      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

moment  at  the  kitchen  door  showed  him  at  once 
that  he  was  safe.  Nevertheless,  Marta  lingered 
on  the  threshold. 

"Well?"  queried  Frederik,  seating  himself  be 
side  the  tray. 

"  Is  there,"  she  stammered,  "  is  there  no — no 
word — no  letter ?  " 

"Word?  Letter?"  he  echoed  nervously. 
"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  From "  began  the  old  woman  in  timid 

hesitation,  then  in  a  rush  of  courage :  "  From  my 
little  girl.  From  Anne  Marie." 

"  No  1  "  he  snapped.    "  Of  course  not.    I " 

"  But — at  a  time  like  this — if  she  knows — oh, 
I  felt  it, — I  hoped — that  there  would  be  some 
message  from  her!  Every  day  I  have  hoped " 

"  No,"  he  broke  in.  "  Nothing's  come.  No 
letter.  No  word  of  any  sort  from  her.  I'd  have 
let  you  know  if  there  had.  By  the  way,  I  have 
an  appointment  at  the  hotel  in  a  few  minutes. 
Tell  Miss  Kathrien,  if  she  asks  for  me." 

He  busied  himself  with  the  tray.  Marta  looked 
at  him  a  moment  longer,  held  by  some  power 
that  she  could  not  explain.  Then  years  of  habit 
overcame  impulse.  She  courtesied  and  withdrew 
to  her  kitchen. 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  215 

As  the  door  shut  behind  her,  Frederik  caught 
up  the  torn  blue  letter.  Tossing  it  in  a  metal 
ash  tray  he  struck  a  match.  Peter  Grimm,  divin 
ing  his  intent,  sprang  forward  with  a  wordless 
cry  to  stop  him.  The  Dead  Man's  hands  tore 
at  the  wrists  of  the  Living;  sought  by  main 
strength  to  snatch  the  paper  out  of  his  reach;  with 
pitiful  helplessness  tried  to  thrust  back  the  hand 
that  held  the  lighted  match. 

Unknowingly,  Frederik  touched  the  flame  to  the 
paper,  shook  out  the  match,  and  watched  the  torn 
letter  blaze  and  curl.  Then  he  tossed  the  charred 
bits  into  a  jardiniere  on  the  floor,  and  picked  up 
the  picture. 

"  There's  an  end  to  that!  "  he  murmured,  turn 
ing  to  throw  the  photograph  into  the  smoking 
embers  of  the  fireplace. 

Peter  Grimm  stood  erect.  A  new  hope  drove 
the  sick  despair  from  his  face.  Looking  toward 
Willem's  room  he  raised  his  arm  and  beckoned. 

At  once  the  door  stealthily  opened.  A  white 
little  figure  slipped  out  onto  the  gallery  and  to 
ward  the  stairs.  Down  the  flight  of  steps,  clad 
in  his  white  flannel  pajama  suit,  his  eyes  wide, 
his  yellow  hair  tumbled,  Willem  ran. 

Frederik,   in  the  act  of  consigning  the  photo- 


216       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

graph  to  the  fire,  was  arrested  by  the  sound  of 
pattering  feet.  Laying  the  picture  on  the  desk,  he 
turned  guiltily,  in  time  to  see  Willem  speeding 
across  the  room  toward  the  bay  window. 

"  What  are  you  doing  down  here?  "  demanded 
Frederik.  "  If  you're  so  sick,  you  ought  not  to 
get  out  of  bed.  That's  the  place  for  sick 
boys." 

"  The  circus !  "  mumbled  Willem  in  the  queer, 
strained  voice  of  a  sleep  walker.  "  The  circus 
music  waked  me  up.  So  I  had  to  come  and  hear 
it." 

"Circus  music?"  repeated  Frederik  amazedly, 
as  he  watched  the  boy  tugging  at  the  rain-tightened 
window  sash  to  force  it  upward. 

"  Yes,  it  woke  me.  I  can  see  the  parade  if  I 
can  get  this  window  open.  It " 

"  Why,  you're  half  asleep !  "  exclaimed  Fred 
erik.  "  The  circus  left  town  ten  days  ago  1  " 

"  No,  no  1  "  insisted  Willem,  raising  the  win 
dow  with  one  final  wrench  of  his  frail  arms. 
"  The  band's  playing  now.  Hear  it?  " 

A  gust  of  chilly,  wet  air  dashed  in  through 
the  open  window,  sending  a  sharp  draught  across 
the  room  and  waking  the  boy  wide  as  it  beat  into 
his  hot  face. 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  217 

"  Why,"  babbled  Willem,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and 
staring  about  him,  "  why,  it's  night  time !  I  won 
der  what  made  me  think  the  circus  was  here.  I — 
I  guess  it  was  a  dream." 

Frederik  strode  to  the  window  impatiently  and 
slammed  it  shut.  As  he  passed  Willem  on  the 
way  back  to  the  desk  the  boy  intuitively  cowered 
away  from  him. 

"  You've  had  a  fever,"  said  Frederik  crossly, 
"  and  you're  liable  to  catch  cold,  wandering  around 
this  draughty  old  barn  in  your  night  clothes.  Go 
back  to  bed." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  whimpered  the  boy,  cringing  under 
the  sharp  tone  and  starting  back  for  the  stairs. 
But,  before  he  reached  the  lowest  step,  he  halted. 
Peter  Grimm  stood  barring  his  way.  For  a  mo 
ment  the  Dead  Man  and  the  child  stood  face  to 
face.  Then,  still  frightened  but  unable  to  resist, 
Willem  turned  back  toward  Frederik,  who  had 
just  picked  up  the  photograph  once  more;  to  put 
it  in  the  smouldering  ashes. 

"  Mynheer  Frederik,"  asked  the  boy  in  a  voice 
not  his  own,  "where  is  Anne  Marie?" 

"  What?  "  barked  Frederik  with  an  uncontroll 
able  start  and  whipping  the  photograph  around 
behind  his  back  like  a  guilty  child  caught  in  theft. 


218       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  What's  that  ?  Anne  Marie  ?  Why  do  you  ask 
me  about  her?  How  should  /  know?" 

He  turned  his  back  on  the  boy  and  began  to 
tear  the  photograph  into  tiny  bits.  Willem  hesi 
tated,  then  went  back  to  the  stairway.  Again  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps  he  confronted  the  Dead  Man. 
Again  they  stood  for  an  instant,  looking  word 
lessly  into  each  other's  eyes.  And  again  Willem 
turned  back  into  the  room. 

"  Mynheer  Frederik,"  he  asked  in  a  sort 
of  dazed  bewilderment,  "  where  is  Mynheer 
Grimm?  " 

"Eh?  Mynheer  Grimm?  Dead,  of  course. 
Dead." 

"  Are — are  you  sure?     Because  just  now " 

"  Oh,  go  to  bed!  At  once,  do  you  hear!  Go, 
or  I'll  have  you  punished!  " 

Under  this  dire  threat  and  the  scowl  that  went 
with  it,  not  even  the  Dead  Man's  power  could 
stem  Willem's  defeat.  Up  the  stairs  he  scuttled. 
At  the  door  of  his  room,  the  fever  thirst  in  his 
hot,  parched  throat  for  the  moment  overcame 
fear. 

"  Could — could  I  have  a  drink  of  water?"  he 
whimpered,  gazing  longingly  down  at  the  full  ice- 
water  pitcher  on  the  sideboard. 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  219 

An  angry  glance  from  Frederik  sent  him  into 
his  own  room  like  a  rabbit  into  its  warren. 

Frederik,  the  fragments  of  the  picture  clenched 
in  his  sweat-damp  hand,  glowered  after  the  re 
treating  lad  and  took  a  step  toward  the  fire.  The 
movement  brought  him  close  to  the  desk.  The 
lamp  had  suddenly  burned  very  low.  But  for 
the  faint  gleam  of  firelight  the  room  was  in  almost 
total  darkness. 

And  out  of  that  gloom  leaped  a  Face.  A  Face 
close  to  Frederik's  own; — a  Face  indescribably 
awful  in  its  aspect  of  unearthly  menace.  The  face 
of  Peter  Grimm.  Not  kindly  and  rugged  as  in 
life,  or  even  as  since  the  Dead  Man's  return.  But 
terrible,  accusing,  bathed  in  a  lurid  glow. 

Frederik,  with  a  scream  of  crass  horror,  reeled 
back.  The  bits  of  cardboard  tumbled  from  his 
fear-loosened  grip  and  strewed  the  surface  of  the 
desk. 

"  My  God !  "  croaked  Frederik,  his  throat 
sanded  with  terror.  "My  God!  Oh,  my 
God!  " 

The  Face  was  gone.  The  room  was  in  shadow 
again  and  very  silent.  The  dropping  of  a  charred 
ember  from  andiron  to  hearth  made  the  panic- 
stricken  man  jump  convulsively. 


220       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Scarce  breathing,  crouched  in  a  position  of  gro 
tesque  fright,  the  fear-sweat  streaming  down  his 
face,  Frederik  Grimm  peered  about  him  through 
the  flickering  gloom.  The  place  seemed  peopled 
with  elusive  Shapes.  His  teeth  clicked  together 
as  his  loosened  jaw  was  nerve-racked.  He  shiv 
ered  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I — I  thought "  he  began,  half  aloud. 

Then  he  fell  silent,  afraid  of  his  own  voice  in 
that  dreadful  silence.  For  a  moment  he  cowered, 
numb,  inert.  Then  he  remembered  the  frag 
ments  of  the  photograph  that  still  strewed  the 
table. 

"  I  must. get  rid  of  them,"  he  thought. 

He  took  an  apprehensive  step  toward  the  desk. 
But  the  memory  of  what  he  had  seen  there  was 
too  potent.  He  knew  he  could  no  more  approach 
that  spot  than  he  could  walk  into  a  den  of  rattle 
snakes.  He  halted,  sweating,  aghast.  Again  he 
crept  forward, — a  step — two  steps — in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  torn  picture.  But  his  fears  clogged 
his  feet  and  brought  him  to  a  shivering  stand 
still.  Had  the  wealth  of  the  world  lain  strewed 
on  that  desk  instead  of  a  mere  handful  of  scat 
tered  pasteboard  bits  he  could  not  have  summoned 
courage  to  step  forth  and  seize  it. 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  221 

The  Dead  Man,  in  the  shadows,  read  his  mind 
and  smiled. 

"  No  one's  likely  to  come  in  here  till  I  get 
back,"  Frederik  told  himself,  in  self-excuse  for 
his  cowardice.  "  And  if  any  one  does,  the  pic 
ture  is  too  badly  torn  to  be  recognised.  I " 

He  found  that  his  terror-ridden  subconsciousness 
was  backing  his  trembling  body  toward  the  outer 
door.  The  door  that  led  from  that  haunted 
room — from  the  desk  he  dared  not  go  near, — 
out  into  the  safe,  peace-giving  night  of  summer. 

And,  snatching  up  his  hat  and  stick,  the  shud 
dering,  white-faced  young  master  of  the  Grimm 
fortune  half-stumbled,  half-ran,  from  his  home. 

"  Hicks's  lawyer  will  be  waiting,"  he  said  to 
his  battered  self-respect.  "  I'm  late  as  it  is.  I 
must  hurry." 

And  hurry  he  did,  nor  checked  his  rapid  pace 
until  he  had  reached  his  destination. 

Scarce  had  the  door  banged  shut  after  Frederik 
when  Peter  Grimm  raised  his  eyes  once  more  to 
ward  Willem's  room.  And  again  the  little  white- 
clad  figure  appeared,  and  tiptoed  toward  the  stair 
head. 

Willem  paused  a  moment,  looked  over  the  ban 
isters  to  make  certain  that  Frederik  had  gone,  then 


222       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

stole  down  to  the  big  living-room.  His  cheeks 
were  flushed  with  fever.  He  was  tired  all  over. 
His  head  throbbed.  And  his  throat  was  unbear 
ably  dry.  The  perpetual  thirst  of  childhood, 
augmented  by  the  gnawing,  unbearable  thirst  of 
fever,  sent  him  speeding  to  the  sideboard.  He 
picked  up  the  big  ice-water  pitcher, — chilled  and 
frosted  by  inner  cold  and  outer  dampness — and 
poured  out  a  glassful  of  the  stingingly  cold  water. 
The  boy  gulped  down  the  contents  of  the  glass 
in  almost  a  single  draught.  Then  he  filled  a  sec 
ond  glass  and,  with  epicurean  delight,  let  the  water 
trickle  slowly  and  coolingly  down  his  hot  throat. 
Peter  Grimm  stood  beside  him,  a  gentle  hand  on 
the  thin  little  shoulder.  His  thirst  slaked,  Wil- 
lem  glanced  fearfully  toward  the  front  door. 

"  Oh,  he  won't  come  back  for  a  long  time," 
Peter  Grimm  soothed  him.  "  Don't  be  afraid. 
He  went  out  in  a  hurry  and  he  hasn't  yet  stopped 
hurrying.  He — thought  he  saw  me." 

Willem,  reassured,  laid  his  burning  cheek 
against  the  frosted,  icy  side  of  the  pitcher.  A 
smile  of  utter  bliss  overspread  his  face. 

"  My,  but  it  feels  good !  "  sighed  the  boy. 

The  Dead  Man  continued  to  look  down  at  him 
with  an  infinite  pity. 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  223 

"  Willem,"  said  he,  stroking  the  tousled  head 
and  smoothing  away  its  stabbing  pain,  "  there  are 
some  little  soldiers  in  this  world  who  are  handi 
capped  when  they  come  into  Life's  battlefield. 
Their  parents  haven't  fitted  them  for  the  fight. 
Poor  little  moon-moths !  They  look  in  at  the 
lighted  windows.  They  beat  at  the  panes.  They 
see  the  glow  of  happy  firesides, — the  lamps  of 
bright  homes.  But  they  can  never  get  in.  You 
are  one  of  those  little  wanderers,  Willem.  And 
children  like  you  are  a  million  times  happier  when 
they  are  spared  the  truth.  So  it's  the  most  beauti 
ful  thing  that  can  happen  for  you,  that  before 
your  playing  time  is  over — before  you  begin  a 
man's  bitterly  hard,  grinding  toil, — all  the  care — 
all  the  tears,  all  the  worries,  all  the  sorrows  are 
going  to  pass  you  by  forever.  God  is  going  to 
lay  His  dear  hand  on  your  head.  There  is  al 
ways  a  place  for  such  little  children  as  you  at  His 
side.  There  is  none  in  this  small,  harsh,  unpity- 
ing  old  world.  If  people  knew — if  they  under 
stood — I  don't  think  they  could  be  so  cruel 
as  to  bring  such  children  into  the  world,  to 
carry  terrible  burdens.  They  don't  know.  But 
God  does.  And  that  is  why  He  is  going  to  take 
you  to  Him.  It  will  be  the  most  wonderful — 


224       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

the  most  beautiful  thing  that  could  happen  to 
you." 

Willem  smiled  dreamily.  Then  he  took  a  long, 
ecstatic  drink  out  of  the  pitcher  itself,  set  it  down, 
and  rose  to  his  feet.  He  felt  suddenly  better. 
For  the  time  the  water  had  cooled  him.  The 
racking  headache  was  smoothed  away.  And, 
childlike,  he  had  no  desire  whatever  to  cut  short 
his  surreptitious  good  time  by  going  to  bed.  He 
looked  about  him  for  new  objects  of  interest. 

"  Willem,"  went  on  the  Dead  Man,  "  of  all  this 
whole  household,  you  are  the  only  one  who  really 
feels  I  am  here.  The  only  one  who  can  almost 
see  me.  The  only  one  who  can  help  me.  I  have 
a  little  message  for  you  to  give  Katje,  and  I've 
something  to  show  you." 

He  pointed  toward  the  desk,  where  lay  the 
fragments  of  the  picture.  The  firelight  was 
strong  enough  now  to  make  them  plainly  visible. 
Willem's  eyes  followed  the  direction  of  the  point 
ing  hand.  But  his  glance,  as  it  reached  the  desk, 
fell  upon  something  infinitely  more  attractive  than 
any  mere  photograph.  He  saw  the  tray  placed 
there  by  Marta  and  left  untouched  by  Frederik. 

"  I'm  awful  hungry !  "  observed  the  boy. 

"  H'm  1  "  commented  Peter  Grimm,  as  Willem 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  225 

started  across  the  room  to  investigate  the  mys 
teriously  alluring  tray.  "  I  see  I  can't  get  any 
help  from  a  youngster  as  long  as  his  stomach  is 
calling." 

"Good!"  ejaculated  Willem  as  he  spied  the 
plate  of  cakes. 

"Help  yourself!"  invited  Peter  Grimm. 

The  boy  obeyed  the  suggestion  before  it  was 
made.  Already  his  mouth  was  full  of  cake  and 
his  jaws  were  working  rapturously. 

"  Das  is  lecker!  "  he  murmured,  biting  into  an 
other  of  the  cakes. 

He  picked  a  large  and  obese  raisin  from  a  third, 
swallowed  it,  then  reached  for  the  sugar  bowl. 
Two  lumps  of  sugar  went  the  way  of  the  raisin. 
After  which  a  handful  of  sugar  lumps  were  stuffed 
into  his  night-clothes'  pocket  for  future  delecta 
tion  in  bed.  The  cream  pitcher  next  met  the 
forager's  eye.  Willem  looked  at  it  longingly. 

"Take  it,"  said  Peter  Grimm.  "It's  good, 
thick,  sweet  cream.  Drink  it  down.  That's  right. 
It  won't  hurt  you.  Nothing  can  hurt  you  now." 

"  I  haven't  had  such  a  good  time,"  Willem 
confided  to  his  inner  consciousness,  "  since 
Mynheer  Grimm  died.  Why " — he  broke  off, 
his  roving  gaze  concentrating  on  the  hat-rack — 


226       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  there's  his  hat!  It's — he's  here!  Oh,  Mynheer 
Grimm ! "  he  wailed  aloud  in  utter  longing. 
"  Take  me  back  with  you !  " 

"  You  know  I'm  here?  "  asked  the  Dead  Man 
joyously.  "  Can  you  see  me?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  came  the  answer  without  a  breath 
of  hesitation  or  any  hint  of  misunderstanding. 

"  Here,"  ordered  Peter  Grimm,  his  face  alight, 
"take  my  hand.  Have  you  got  it?" 

He  placed  his  right  hand  around  the  boy's 
groping  palm. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Willem. 

"  Now,"  urged  Peter  Grimm,  enclosing  the 
boy's  hand  in  both  his  own,  "do  you  feel  it?" 

"  I — I  feel  something"  returned  Willem,  in 
doubt.  "Yes,  sir.  But  where  is  your  hand? 
There's — there's  nothing  there !  " 

"But  you  hear  me?"  asked  the  Dead  Man 
anxiously. 

"  I — I  can't  really  hear  you.  It's  some  kind  of 
a  dream,  I  suppose.  Isn't  it?  Oh,  Mynheer 
Grimm !  "  he  pleaded  brokenly.  "  Take  me  back 
with  you !  " 

"  You're  not  quite  ready  to  go  with  me,  yet," 
said  the  Dead  Man  in  gentle  denial.  "  Not  till 
you  can  see  me." 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  227 

The  boy  reached  out  for  another  cake.  Still 
looking  straight  ahead  where  he  imagined  his 
unseen  protector  might  be,  he  asked: 

"  What  did  you  come  back  for,  Mynheer 
Grimm?  Wasn't  it  nice  where  you  went?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  Beyond  all  belief,  dear  lad.  But 
I  had  to  come  back.  Willem,  do  you  think  you 
could  take  a  message  for  me?  Listen  very  care 
fully  now.  Because  I  want  you  to  remember  every 
word  of  it.  I  want  you  to  try  to  understand. 
You  are  to  tell  Miss  Kathrien " 

"  It's  too  bad  you  died  before  you  could  go  to 
the  circus,  Mynheer  Grimm,"  broke  in  Willem, 
munching  the  cake. 

"  Willem,"  persisted  the  Dead  Man,  patiently 
starting  his  plan  of  campaign  all  over  again 
from  another  angle,  "  there  must  be  a  great 
many  things  you  remember, — things  that  hap 
pened  when  you  lived  with  your  mother.  Aren't 
there?" 

"  I  was  very  little,"  hesitated  Willem,  echoing 
a  phrase  he  had  once  heard  Marta  use  in  speaking 
of  his  earlier  days. 

"  Still,"  pursued  the  Dead  Man,  "  you  remem 
ber?  " 

"  I — I  was  afraid,"   replied  the  boy,   groping 


228       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

back  in  the  blurred  past  for  a  fact  and  seizing  on 
a  gruesomely  prominent  one. 

"  Try  to  think  back  to  that  time,"  urged  Peter 
Grimm.  "You  loved— her?" 

"  Oh,  I  did  love  Anne  Marie !  "  exclaimed  the 
child. 

"  Now,"  pointed  out  the  Dead  Man,  "  through 
that  one  little  miracle  of  love  you  can  remember 
many  things  that  are  tucked  away  in  the  back  of 
your  baby  brain.  Hey?  Things  that  a  single 
spark  could  kindle  and  light  up  and  make  clear 
to  you.  It  comes  back?  Think!  There  were 
you — and  Anne  Marie " 

"  And  the  Other  One,"  suggested  Willem  on 
impulse. 

"  So !     And  who  was  the  '  Other  One  '  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid "  babbled  the  child. 

And  again  the  Dead  Man  shifted  the  form  of 
his  questions  to  quiet  the  nervous  dread  that  had 
sprung  into  the  big  eyes. 

"  Willem,"  said  he,  "  what  would  you  rather 
see  than  anything  else  in  all  this  world?  Think. 
Something  that  every  little  boy  loves?  " 

"  I — I  like  the  circus,"  hazarded  Willem,  setting 
his  tired  wits  to  work  at  this  possible  conundrum, 
"  and  the  clowns,  and " 


A  HALF-HEARD  MESSAGE  229 

He  hesitated.  Peter  Grimm  motioned  toward 
the  photograph's  fragments  on  the  desk. 

" and  my  mother,"  finished  the  boy. 

Then,  his  gaze  following  the  Dead  Man's  ges 
ture,  he  caught  sight  of  part  of  a  pictured  face, 
torn  diagonally  across.  With  a  cry  he  picked  it 
up. 

"  Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "  there  she  is !  There's 
her  face, — part  of  it.  And,"  fumbling  among 
the  torn  bits  of  cardboard,  "  there's  the  other  part. 
It's  a  picture  of  Anne  Marie.  All  torn  up." 

"  It  would  be  fun  to  put  it  together,"  suggested 
Peter  Grimm,  "  the  way  you  did  with  those  picture 
puzzles  I  got  you  once.  Suppose  we  try?" 

The  idea  caught  the  child's  fancy.  With 
knitted  brows  and  puckered  lips  he  bent  over  the 
desk  and  began  the  task  of  piecing  the  scraps  into 
a  whole. 

"  That's  right,"  approved  the  Dead  Man. 
"  Put  it  all  together  until  the  picture  is  all  perfect. 
— See,  there's  the  bit  you  are  looking  for  to  finish 
off  the  shoulder, — and  then  we  must  show  it  to 
everybody  in  the  house,  and  set  them  all  to  think 
ing." 

With  an  apprehensive  glance  over  his  shoulder 
toward  the  front  door  Willem  proceeded  more 


230       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

hurriedly  with  his  work  of  joining  the  strewn 
pieces. 

"  I  must  get  it  put  together  before  he  comes 
back,"  he  muttered. 

"  Ah !  "  mutely  rejoiced  the  Dean  Man,  "  I'm 
making  you  think  about  him  at  last !  I'll  succeed 
in  getting  your  mind  to  connect  him  with  Anne 
Marie  by  the  time  the  others " 

"  '  Uncle  Rat  has  gone  to  town!    UsL-H'M!' " 

chanted  Willem  under  his  breath  as  his  fingers 
moved  from  part  to  part  of  the  nearly  completed 
picture.  "  '  To  buy  his  niece  a  wedding  gown.' — 
There's  her  hand !  "  he  interrupted  himself  as  an 
elusive  scrap  of  the  photograph  was  at  last  dis 
covered  and  put  into  place. 

Peter  Grimm's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  door  of 
Kathrien's  room  in  a  compelling  stare. 

"  Her  other  hand  I  "  mused  Willem.  "  '  What 
shall  the  wedding  breakfast  be?  Ha-H'M! 

What  shall  the ?'  Where's— here's  the  last 

two  parts.  There !  It's  done!  Oh,  Anne  Marie  1 
Mamma !  I " 

The  door  of  Kathrien's  room  opened.  The 
girl,  under  a  spell  of  the  Dead  Man's  will,  came 
out  to  the  banisters. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   "  SENSITIVE  " 

KATHRIEN,  looking  down  into  the  firelit  room, 
saw  the  white-clad  boy  starting  up  in  triumph 
with  his  work. 

"  Why,  Willem !  "  she  cried,  dumfounded  at 
sight  of  the  invalid  out  of  bed  at  such  an  hour. 
"What  are  you  doing  down  there?  You  ought 
to " 

"  Oh,  Miss  Kathrien !  "  exclaimed  the  child, 
pointing  toward  the  picture.  "  Come  down, 
quick!" 

"  You  mustn't  get  out  of  bed  like  this  when 
you're  ill,"  gently  reproved  Kathrien.  "  I  had 
a  feeling  that  you  weren't  in  your  room.  That 
is  why  I  came  out  to  look.  Come " 

"But,  look!"  insisted  Willem,  pointing  again 
at  the  picture  puzzle  he  had  so  painstakingly 
pieced  together.  "Look,  Miss  Kathrien!" 

"  Come,  dear!  "  admonished  Kathrien.  "  You 
must  not  play  down  there.  Wait  a  minute,  and 

I'll  make  your  bed  again.     It  will  be  more  com- 

231 


232       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

fortable  for  you  if  it's  made  over.  Then  you 
must  come  right  upstairs." 

She  went  to  the  sick  room  and  set  to  work 
with  deft  speed  rearranging  the  tumbled  sheets 
and  smoothing  the  rumpled  pillows.  Willem 
looked  down  at  his  disregarded  picture  and  his 
lip  trembled.  He  gazed  about  the  room  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  Peter  Grimm.  He  strained  his 
keen  ears  for  sound  of  the  Dead  Man's  gentle, 
comforting  voice. 

But  Peter  Grimm  was  looking  fixedly  toward 
the  dining-room  door.  And  in  a  moment  it 
opened  and  Mrs.  Batholommey  bustled  in. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  some  one  call,"  observed 
the  rector's  wife  for  the  benefit  of  any  one  who 
might  be  in  the  half-lighted  room. 

Then,  as  her  eyes  grew  accustomed  to  the 
gloom,  she  espied  Willem. 

"  Why!  "  she  cackled.  "  Of  all  things !  You 
naughty,  naughty  child!  You  ought  to  be  in  bed 
and  asleep !  " 

Willem  shrank  under  the  rebuke,  but  a  touch 
of  Peter  Grimm's  hand  and  a  whispered  word 
of  encouragement  braced  him  to  reply: 

"  Old  Mynheer  Grimm's  come  back." 

In  the  midst  of  her  tirade  Mrs.  Batholommey 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  233 

stopped,  open-mouthed.  She  stared  at  the  boy  in 
dismay.  His  face,  as  well  as  his  voice,  was  un 
perturbed.  He  had  stated  merely  what  seemed 
to  him  a  perfectly  natural  but  very  welcome  truth. 
He  had  supposed  she  would  be  pleased,  not  petri 
fied.  He  had  told  her  the  news  in  the  hope  of 
averting  a  scolding.  But  she  did  not  seem  to 
take  it  in  the  sense  of  his  simple  declaration.  So 
he  repeated  it. 

"  Old  Mynheer  Grimm's  come  back,  Mrs. 
Batholommey." 

She  gurgled  wordlessly,  then  sputtered: 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  child?  'Old 
Mynheer  Grimm,'  as  you  call  him,  is  dead.  You 
know  that." 

"  No,  he  isn't,"  stoutly  contradicted  Willem. 
"  He's  come  back.  He's  in  this  room  right  now. 
At  least,"  he  added  as  he  glanced  about  and  could 
not  feel  the  Dead  Man's  presence,  "  at  least  he 
was  a  minute  ago.  I  know,  because  I've  been 
talking  to  him." 

"Absurd!" 

"  I've  been  talking  to  him.  He  was  standing 
just  where  you  are  now." 

Mrs.  Batholommey  instinctively  started.  In 
fact,  despite  her  age  and  bulk  and  the  fact  that 


234      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

she  was  built  for  endurance  rather  than  for  speed, 
she  jumped  high  into  the  air,  with  an  incredible 
lightness  and  agility,  and  came  to  earth  several 
feet  away  from  the  spot  Willem  had  desig 
nated. 

"  At  least,"  explained  the  boy,  "  he  seemed  to 
be  about  there.  But  he  seemed  to  be  everywhere." 

Recovering  her  smashed  self-poise,  Mrs.  Bath- 
olommey  frowned  with  lofty  majesty,  tempered 
by  womanly  concern. 

"  You  are  feverish  again,"  she  said.  "  I  hoped 
you  were  all  over  it.  You're  light-headed,  you 
poor  little  fellow." 

Kathrien,  the  bed  being  re-made,  hurried  down 
stairs  to  get  Willem. 

"  His  mind  is  wandering,"  said  Mrs.  Batholom- 
mey.  "  He  imagines  all  sorts  of  ridiculous,  im 
possible  things." 

Kathrien  dropped  into  a  chair  by  the  fire  and 
gathered  the  fragile  little  body  into  her  lap. 

"  Yes,"  went  on  Mrs.  Batholommey,  "  he  is 
out  of  his  head.  I  think  I'll  run  over  and  get 
the  doctor." 

"  You  need  not  trouble  to,"  said  Peter  Grimm. 
"  /  have  sent  for  him.  Though  he  doesn't  know 
it.  He  is  coming  up  the  walk." 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  235 

The  Dead  Man  turned  toward  the  front  door, 
the  old  quizzical  smile  on  his  lips. 

"  Come  in,  Andrew,"  he  said.  "  I'm  going  to 
give  you  one  more  chance  at  the  theory  you  were 
wise  enough  to  form  and  are  not  wise  enough  to 
practise." 

Dr.  McPherson  entered. 

"  I  thought  I'd  just  drop  in  for  a  minute  before 
bedtime,"  said  he,  "  to  see  how  Willem " 

"Oh,  Doctor!"  cried  Mrs.  Batholommey. 
"  This  is  providential.  I  was  just  coming  to  get 
you.  Here's  Willem.  We  found  he'd  gotten 
out  of  bed  and  wandered  down  here.  He 
is  worse.  Much  worse.  He's  quite  deliri 
ous." 

"  H'm !  "  commented  Dr.  McPherson,  touch 
ing  the  child's  face  and  then  laying  a  finger  on  the 
fast,  light  pulse.  "  He  doesn't  look  it.  He  has 
a  slight  fever  again,  but " 

"Oh,  he  said  old  Mr.  Grimm  was  here!" 
bleated  Mrs.  Batholommey.  "  Here  in  this  room 
with  him." 

"What?"  gasped  Kathrien. 

But  the  doctor  seemed  to  regard  the  statement 
as  the  most  natural  thing  imaginable. 

"In  this  room?"  he  repeated  in  a  matter  of 


236      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

fact  tone.  "  Well,  very  possibly  he  is.  There's 
nothing  so  remarkable  about  that,  is  there?" 

"  Nothing  remarkable?"  squealed  Mrs.  Bathol- 
ommey;  then,  bridling,  she  scoffed:  "Oh,  of 
course.  I  forgot.  You  believe  in " 

"  In  fact,"  pursued  McPherson,  getting  under 
weigh  with  his  pet  idea,  "  you'll  remember,  both 
of  you,  that  I  told  you  he  and  I  made  a  compact 
to " 

"  Oh!  "  cried  Mrs.  Batholommey  with  a  shud 
der.  "  That  absurd,  horrible  '  compact '  you  told 
us  about!  It  was  positively  blasphemous!" 

But  McPherson  was  looking  speculatively  down 
at  Willem,  and  did  not  accept  nor  even  hear  the 
challenge  to  combat. 

"  I've  sometimes  had  the  idea,"  said  he,  "  that 
the  boy  was  a  '  sensitive.'  And  this  evening,  I've 
been  wondering " 

"  No,  you  haven't,  Andrew,"  denied  Peter 
Grimm.  "  It's  /  who  have  been  doing  the  '  won 
dering  ' ;  through  that  Scotch  brain  of  yours.  I'm 
making  use  of  that  Spiritualistic  hobby  of  yours 
because  you're  too  dense  to  hear  me  except  through 
some  rarer  mortal's  voice." 

" Wondering,"  continued  the  doctor, 

"  whether — perhaps " 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  237 

"  Yes,"  declared  Peter  Grimm,  as  McPherson 
hesitated,  "  the  boy  is  a  '  sensitive,'  as  you  call  it" 

"  I  really  believe,"  declared  McPherson,  his 
last  doubts  vanishing,  "  that  Willem  is  a  *  sensi 
tive.'  I'm  certain  of  it.  And " 

"  A  '  sensitive  '  ?  "  queried  Kathrien.  "  What's 
that?" 

14  Well,"  reflected  the  doctor,  "  it  is  rather  hard 
to  define  in  simple  language.  A  '  sensitive  '  is 
what  is  sometimes  known  as  a  '  medium.'  A 
human  organism  so  constructed  that  it  can  be  '  in 
formed,'  or  'controlled'  (as  the  phrases  go)  by 
those  who  are — who  have — er — who  have — passed 
over." 

He  looked  apologetically  about  as  if  to  assure 
the  possibly-present  Peter  Grimm  that  he  had 
absolutely  no  intent  of  using  so  non-technical  a 
word  as  "  dead." 

Peter  Grimm  acknowledged  the  compliment 
with  a  laugh. 

"  Oh,  say  it,  Andrew !  Say  it !  "  he  adjured. 
"  .There  is  no  *  death '  and  there  are  no  '  dead,* 
as  this  world  understands  the  words.  So  one  term 
is  as  good  as  another.  '  Dead '  or  '  passed  over.* 
It's  all  one.  Neither  phrase  means  anything. 
Don't  be  afraid  of  offending  me." 


238       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"And  Willem  is  like  that?"  asked  Kathrien. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  answered  McPherson. 
"  Now,  Willem " 

"  I  think  I'd  better  put  the  boy  to  bed !  "  hastily 
interposed  Mrs.  Batholommey,  coming  between 
the  doctor  and  his  proposed  "  subject." 

"Please!"  rapped  McPherson.  "I  propose 
to  find  out  what  ails  Willem.  That  is  what  I'm 
here  for.  And  I'll  thank  you  not  to  interfere, 
Mrs.  Batholommey.  I  never  break  in  on  your 
good  husband's  pulpit  platitudes,  and  I'll  ask  you 
to  show  the  same  courtesy  toward  me.  Now 
then,  Willem " 

"  Kathrien,"  expostulated  Mrs.  Batholommey, 
"you  surely  aren't  going  to  permit ?" 

A  peremptory  gesture  from  McPherson  momen 
tarily  checked  the  pendulum  of  her  tongue.  Kath 
rien,  too,  was  very  evidently  on  the  doctor's 
side. 

"  Willem,"  said  McPherson  quietly,  "  you  said 
just  now  that  Mr.  Grimm  was  in  this  room. 
What  made  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  The  things  he  said  to  me,"  returned  Willem, 
readily  enough. 

His  simple  reply  had  a  galvanic  effect  on  his 
three  hearers. 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  239 

"Said  to  you?"  bleated  Mrs.  Batholommey. 
"SM?  Did  you  say  'said'?" 

"  Why,  Willcm !  "  gasped  Kathrien. 

"Old  Mr.  Grimm?"  insisted  Dr.  McPherson. 
"  Willem,  you're  certain  you  mean  old  Mr. 
Grimm?  Not  Frederik?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  assented  Willem  with  calm  assur 
ance.  "  Old  Mynheer  Grimm." 

And  now,  even  Mrs.  Batholommey's  awed 
curiosity  dulled  her  chronic  conscience-pains  into 
momentary  rest.  And,  with  Kathrien,  she  sat 
silent,  eager,  awaiting  the  doctor's  next  move. 

"  And,"  continued  McPherson,  "  what  did  Mr. 
Grimm  say  to  you?  Think  carefully  before  you 
answer." 

"  Oh,"  replied  Willem,  in  the  glorious 
vagueness  of  childhood,  "  lots  and  lots  of 
things." 

"  Oh,  really?  "  mocked  Mrs.  Batholommey,  the 
disappointing  answer  freeing  her  from  the  grip 
of  awe. 

Again  McPherson  raised  a  warning  hand  that 
balked  further  comment  from  her.  And  he  re 
turned  to  the  examination. 

"Willem,"  said  he,  "how  did  Mr.  Grimm 
look?" 


240       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  I  didn't  see  him,"  answered  the  child. 

"H'm!"  sniffed  Mrs.  Batholommey. 

"  But,  Willem,"  urged  McPherson,  "  you  must 
have  seen  something." 

"  I — I  thought  I  saw  his  hat  on  the  peg,"  hes 
itated  the  boy. 

All  eyes  turned  involuntarily  and  in  some  fear 
toward  the  hat-rack. 

"  No,"  went  on  Willem,  looking  at  the  vacant 
peg,  "  it's  gone  now." 

"  Doctor,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Batholommey, 
impatiently,  "  this  is  so  silly  !  It " 

"  I  wonder,"  whispered  Kathrien  to  McPher 
son  over  the  boy's  head,  "  I  wonder  if  he  really 
did — do  you  think ?" 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  A  growing 
look  of  disappointment  and  troubled  doubt  on 
McPherson's  grim  face  made  her  reluctant  to  voice 
the  question  that  her  mind  had  formed. 

"  Willem !  "  said  the  Dead  Man  earnestly, 
pointing  towards  the  pieced-together  picture  as 
he  spoke.  "  Look!  Show  it  to  her!  " 

"Look!  "  echoed  Willem,  pointing  in  turn  to 
the  photograph.  "  Look,  Miss  Kathrien !  That's 
what  I  wanted  to  show  you  when  you  called  to 
me  to  go  to  bed." 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  241 

"  Why !  "  exclaimed  Kathrien,  following  the 
direction  of  the  eager  little  finger.  "  It's  his 
mother !  It's  Anne  Marie  1  " 

"His  mother!"  echoed  Mrs.  Batholommey, 
focussing  her  near-sighted  eyes  on  the  likeness. 
"Why,  so  it  is!  Well,  of  all  things!  I  didn't 
know  you'd  heard  from  Anne  Marie." 

"  We  haven't,"  said  Kathrien. 

'  Then  how  did  the  photograph  get  into  the 
house?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  girl.  "  I  never 
saw  the  picture  before.  It  is  none  we've  had. 
How  strange !  We've  all  been  waiting  for  news 
of  Anne  Marie.  Even  her  own  mother  doesn't 
know  where  she  is,  and  hasn't  heard  from  her  in 
years.  Or — or  maybe  Marta  has  received  the 
picture  since  I " 

"  I'll  ask  her,"  said  Mrs.  Batholommey,  all 
eagerness  now  that  something  tangible  was  before 
her. 

She  bustled  off  into  the  kitchen  in  search  of  the 
old  housekeeper. 

"  If  Marta  didn't  get  it,"  mused  Kathrien,  her 
face  strained  with  puzzling  thoughts,  "  who  did 
have  this  picture?  And  why  weren't  the  rest  of 
us  told?  Every  one  knew  how  eager  we  were  for 


242       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

news  of  Anne  Marie.  And  who  tore  up  the  pic 
ture?  Did  you,  Willem?" 

"  No !  "  declared  the  boy.  "  It  was  lying  here, 
torn.  I  mended  it." 

"  But,"  persisted  Kathrien,  "  there's  been  no  one 
at  this  desk, — except  Frederik. — Except  Fred- 
erik,"  she  repeated,  half  under  her  breath. 

Mrs.  Batholommey  came  back  from  her  kitchen 
interview,  bubbling  with  importance. 

"  No,"  she  announced,  "  Marta  hasn't  heard  a 
word  from  Anne  Marie.  And  only  a  few  minutes 
ago  she  asked  Frederik  if  any  message  had  come. 
And  he  said,  no,  there  hadn't." 

"  I  wonder,"  suggested  Kathrien,  "  if  there  was 
any  message  with  the  photograph." 

"  I  remember,"  volunteered  Mrs.  Batholom 
mey,  "  one  of  the  letters  that  came  for  poor  old 
Mr.  Grimm  was  in  a  blue  envelope  and  felt  as 
if  it  had  a  photograph  in  it.  I  put  it  with 
some  others  in  the  desk  and  I  told  Frederik  about 
it  this  evening." 

Kathrien  glanced  over  the  desk  and  at  the  floor 
around  it  in  search  of  further  clues.  She  saw, 
in  the  jardiniere,  the  charred  remnants  of  a  letter 
and  pointed  it  out  to  the  others.  She  drew  from 
the  debris  the  unburned  corner  of  a  blue  envelope. 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  243 

"  That's  the  one !  "  cried  Mrs.  Batholommey. 
"  That's  it !  The  same  colour." 

4  You  say  the  envelope  was  addressed  to  my 
uncle?" 

'  Yes.  It  gave  me  such  a  turn  to  see  those 
letters  all  addressed  to  a  man  who  wasn't  alive 
to " 

"Oh,  what  does  it  all  mean?"  cried  the  girl. 

"  We  are  going  to  find  out,"  said  McPherson 
with  sudden  determination.  "  Kathrien,  draw 
those  window  shades  close.  I  want  the  room 
darkened  as  much  as  possible." 

"  Oh,  Doctor,"  protested  Mrs.  Batholommey 
as  Kathrien  hastened  to  obey,  "  you're  surely  not 
going  to ?  " 

"  Be  quiet.  You  needn't  stay  unless  you  want 
to." 

"Oh,  I'll  stay.  It's  my  duty.  But  I  don't 
approve.  Please  understand  that." 

Kathrien  had  returned  to  her  place  by  the  fire 
and  had  lifted  Willem  back  on  her  lap.  The 
doctor,  gazing  into  space,  said  in  a  low,  reveren 
tial  tone: 

"  Peter  Grimm !  If  you  have  come  back  to  us, 
if  you  are  in  this  room — if  this  boy  has  spoken 
truly, — give  us  some  sign,  some  indication " 


244       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Why,  Andrew,  I  can't,"  answered  the  Dead 
Man.  "  Not  to  you.  I  have,  to  the  boy.  I  can't 
make  you  hear  me,  Andrew.  The  obstacles  are 
too  strong  for  me." 

"  Peter  Grimm,"  went  on  the  doctor  after  a 
moment  of  dead  silence,  "  if  you  cannot  make 
your  presence  known  to  me — and  I  realise  there 
must  be  great  difficulties — will  you  try  to  send  your 
message  by  Willem  ?  I  presume  you  have  a  mes 
sage?  " 

Another  space  of  tense  silence. 

"  Well,  Peter,"  resumed  McPherson  patiently, 
"  I  am  waiting.  We  are  all  waiting." 

"  Then  stop  talking  and  listen  to  Willem,'* 
ordered  Peter  Grimm. 

The  doctor  involuntarily  glanced  at  the  boy. 
Willem's  wide-open  eyes  were  glazed  like  a  sleep 
walker's.  The  hands  that  had  been  folded  in  his 
lap  now  hung  limply  at  his  sides.  His  lips  parted, 
and  droning,  mechanical,  lifeless  words  came  from 
between  them. 

'  There  was  Anne  Marie — and  me — and  the 
Other  One,"  said  he. 

"  What  Other  One?  "  asked  McPherson,  speak 
ing  in  a  low,  emotionless  voice  so  as  not  to  break 
in  on  the  thought  current. 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  245 

"  The  man  that  came  there,"  droned  the  boy. 

"Whatman?" 

"  The  man  that  made  Anne  Marie  cry." 

"  What  man  made  Anne  Marie  cry?  " 

"  I — I  can't  remember,"  returned  the  boy,  a 
hesitant  note  of  trouble  creeping  into  his  dead 
voice. 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  prompted  Peter  Grimm. 
"  You  can  remember,  Willem.  You're  afraid !  " 

"  So  you  do  remember  the  time  when  you  were 
with  Anne  Marie?"  whispered  Kathrien  as  the 
lad  hesitated.  "  You  always  told  me  you  didn't. 
Doctor,  I  have  the  strangest  feeling.  A  feeling 
that  all  this  somehow  concerns  me,  and  that  I 
must  sift  it  to  the  bottom.  Think,  Willem. 
Who  was  it  that  came  and  went  at  the  house  where 
you  lived  with  Anne  Marie?" 

'  That  is  what  7  asked  you,  Willem,"  said 
Peter  Grimm. 

;'  That  is  what  he  asked  me,"  replied  Willem 
mechanically. 

"Who?"  demanded  McPherson.  "Who 
asked  you  that  question,  Willem?  " 

"  Mynheer  Grimm." 

"When?" 

"  Just  now." 


246       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Just  now !  "  cried  Kathrien  and  Mrs.  Bathol- 
ommey  in  a  breath. 

"S-sh!"  admonished  the  doctor.  "So  you 
both  asked  the  same  question,  eh?  The  man 
that  came  to  see ?" 

"  It  can't  be  possible,"  expostulated  Mrs. 
Batholommey,  "  that  the  boy  has  any  idea  what 
he  is  talking  about." 

A  glare  from  McPherson  silenced  her.  Then 
the  doctor  asked: 

"What  did  you  tell  Mr.  Grimm,  Willem?" 

The  boy  hesitated. 

"  Better  make  haste,"  adjured  the  Dead  Man, 
"  Frederik  is  coming  back." 

Willem,  with  a  shudder,  glanced  fearfully  to 
ward  the  outer  door. 

"Why  does  he  do  that?  "  wondered  Kathrien. 
11  He  looked  that  way  at  the  door  when  he  spoke 
of  '  the  Other  One.'  Why  should  he?  " 

"  He's  afraid,"  answered  Peter  Grimm. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  echoed  Willem. 

Kathrien  gathered  him  more  closely  in  her 
warm  young  arms  and  whispered  soothingly  to 
him.  The  fear  died  out  of  his  eyes. 

"  You're  not  afraid,  any  more  ?  "  she  reassured 
him. 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  247 

"N-no,"  he  faltered,  "but — oh,  please  don't 
let  Mynheer  Frederik  come  back,  Miss  Kathrien ! 
Please,  don't!  Because — because  then  I'll  be 
afraid  again.  I  know  I  will." 

McPherson  whistled  low  and  long.  A  light 
was  beginning  to  break  upon  his  shrewd  Scotch 
brain. 

"Willem!"  pleaded  the  Dead  Man.  "  W& 
lem!" 

1  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boy. 

'  You  must  say  I  am  very  unhappy." 

"  He  is  very  unhappy,"  repeated  Willem,  par 
rot-like. 

"  Why  is  he  unhappy?  "  demanded  McPherson. 
"Ask  him?" 

"Why  are  you  unhappy,  Mynheer  Grimm?" 
droned  the  boy. 

"  On  account  of  Kathrien's  future,"  replied 
Peter  Grimm. 

"What?"  questioned  Willem,  who  did  not 
quite  understand  the  meaning  of  the  words  "  ac 
count  "  and  "  future." 

"  To-morrow "  began  the  Dead  Man. 

;<  To-morrow "  droned  Willem. 

"  Kathrien's "  continued  Peter  Grimm. 

'  Your "  said  the  boy,  glancing  at  Kathrien. 


248       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Kathrien's  ? "  asked  the  doctor.  "Is  he 
speaking  about  Kathrien?" 

"What  is  it,  Willem?"  begged  the  girl. 
"  What  about  me,  to-morrow?  " 

"  Kathrien  must  not  marry  Frederik,"  said 
Peter  Grimm,  as  if  teaching  a  simple  lesson  to  a 
very  stupid  pupil. 

"  Kathrien "  began  the  boy,  then  flinching, 

and  once  more  glancing  fearfully  over  his  shoul 
der  toward  the  door,  he  whimpered: 

"  Oh,  I  must  not  say  that !  " 

"Say  what,  Willem?"  urged  McPherson. 

"What — what  he  wanted  me  to  say!  " 

"  Kathrien  must  not  marry  Frederik  Grimm," 
repeated  the  Dead  Man.  "Say  it,  Willem?" 

"  Speak  up,  Willem,"  exhorted  McPherson. 
"  Don't  be  scared.  No  one  will  hurt  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  denied  Willem,  in  terror,  "  he  will. 
I  don't  want  to  say  his  name !  Because — be 
cause " 

"Why  won't  you  tell  his  name?"  insisted 
McPherson. 

"  Hurry,  Willem !  Hurry !  "  begged  the  Dead 
Man. 

"  Oh,"  wailed  Willem,  with  another  terrified 
glance  at  the  door,  "I'm  afraid!  I'm  afraid! 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  249 

He'll  make  Anne  Marie  cry  again.  And  me  I 
And  me!" 

"Why  are  you  afraid  of  him?"  asked  Kath- 
rien.  "  Was  Frederik  the  man  that  came  to  see 
Anne  Marie ?" 

"  Kathrien  I  "  primly  reproved  Mrs.  Batholom- 
mey. 

Kathrien  caught  hold  of  the  boy's  hand  as  he 
rose,  shaking,  to  his  feet.  She  knelt  before  him. 

"Willeml"  she  implored.  "Was  Frederik 
the  man  who  came  to  see  Anne  Marie?  Tell 
me!" 

"  Surely,"  expostulated  Mrs.  Batholommey  in 
pious  horror,  "  surely,  Kathrien,  you  don't  be 
lieve ?" 

"  I  have  thought  of  a  great  many  things  this 
evening,"  replied  Kathrien,  vibrant  with  excite 
ment,  yet  instinctively  lowering  her  voice  so  as 
not  to  break  in  on  Willem's  semi-trance.  "  Little 
things  that  I've  never  noticed  before.  I'm  put 
ting  them  together.  Just  as  Willem  put  that  pic 
ture  together.  And  I  must  know  who  the  Other 
One  was." 

"  Hurry,  Willem !  "  exhorted  the  Dead  Man. 
"  Hurry !  Frederik  is  listening  at  the  door." 

The  announcement  brought  Willem  around  with 


250 

a  gasp  toward  the  door.  He  stared  at  Its  panels, 
quaking,  aghast. 

"  I  won't  say  any  more !  "  he  whimpered,  point 
ing  at  the  door.  "He's  there !  " 

"  Who  was  the  man,  Willem?"  entreated 
McPherson.  "Come,  lad!  Out  with  it  1" 

"  Quick,  Willem !  "  supplemented  Peter  Grimm. 

Kathrien,  acting  on  an  unexplained  impulse  as 
Wiliem  stared  terror-stricken  at  the  door,  hastened 
toward  the  vestibule. 

"No!  No!"  shrieked  the  boy  in  anguished 
falsetto  as  he  divined  what  she  was  about  to  do. 
"  Please,  pleas*  don't !  Don't!  Don't  let  him 
in,  I'm  afraid  of  him,  He  made  Anne  Marie 
cry." 

But  Kathrien's  hand  was  already  at  the  latch. 
She  threw  the  outer  door  wide  open.  Frederik 
Grimm  stood  on  the  threshold,  his  head  still  a 
little  forward.  His  ear  had  evidently  been 
pressed  close  to  the  pandL 

**  You're  sure  Frederik's  the  man?"  almost 
shouted  McPherson. 

"  I  won't  tell!  I  won't  tell!  /  won't  telU" 
screamed  the  boy,  taking  one  look  at  Frederik, 
then  tearing  loose  from  McPherson's  restraining 
hand  and  dashing  up  the  stairs. 


THE  "  SENSITIVE  "  251 

"  I  must  go  to  bed  now,"  sobbed  Willem  from 
the  gallery  above.  "  He  told  me  to." 

He  ran  into  his  own  room  and  shut  the  door 
quickly  behind  him. 

'  You're  a  good  boy,  Willem !  "  Peter  Grimm 
called  approvingly  after  him. 

The  cloud  of  grief  was  gone  from  the  Dead 
Man's  face,  leaving  it  wondrously  bright  and 
young.  With  no  trace  of  anxiety,  he  turned  to 
witness  the  consummation  of  his  labours. 

Frederik  Grimm  was  standing,  nerveless,  dazed, 
where  Kathrien's  impulsive  opening  of  the  door 
had  disclosed  him.  Dully,  he  stared  from  one  to 
another  of  the  three  who  confronted  him.  It  was 
Kathrien  who  first  spoke.  Pointing  toward  the 
photograph  that  still  lay  on  the  desk,  she  said: 

"  Frederik,  you  have  heard  from  Anne  Marie." 

His  lips  parted  in  denial.  Then  he  saw  the 
picture,  started  slightly,  and  lapsed  into  a  sullen 
silence. 

'  You  have  had  a  letter  from  her,"  pursued 
Kathrien.  "  You  burned  it.  And  you  tore  that 
picture  so  that  we  would  not  recognise  it.  Why 
did  you  tell  Marta  that  you  had  had  no  message 
— no  news?  You  told  her  so,  since  that  letter 
and  photograph  came.  You  went  to  Anne 


252       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Mane's  home,  too.  Why  did  you  tell  me  you 
had  never  seen  her  since  she  left  here?  Why 
did  you  lie  to  me?  Why  do  you  hate  her 
child?" 

Frederik  made  one  dogged  effort  to  regain  what 
he  had  so  bewilderingly  lost. 

"  Are — are  you  going  to  believe  what  that  brat 
says?"  he  muttered. 

"  No,"  retorted  Kathrien.  "  But  I'm  going  to 
find  out  for  myself.  I  am  going  to  find  out  where 
Anne  Marie  is  before  I  marry  you.  And  I  am 
going  to  learn  the  truth  from  her.  Willem  may 
be  right  or  wrong  in  what  he  thinks  he  remembers. 
But  7  am  going  to  find  out,  past  all  doubt,  what 
Anne  Marie  was  to  you.  And,  if  what  I  think 
is  true " 

"  It  is  true,"  interposed  McPherson.  "  It  is 
true,  Kathrien.  I  believe  we  got  that  message 
direct." 

"  Andrew  is  right,  Katje,"  prompted  the  Dead 
Man.  "  Believe  him." 

"  Yes  1  "  cried  Kathrien,  as  if  in  reply.  "  It 
is  true.  I  believe  Oom  Peter  was  in  this  room 
to-night !  " 

"  What?  "  blurted  Frederik.  "  You  saw  him, 
too?" 


THE  "SENSITIVE"  253 

His  unguarded  query  was  lost  in  Mrs.  Bathol- 
ommey's  gasp  of: 

"  Oh,  Kathrien,  that's  quite  impossible.  It 
was  only  a  coincidence  that " 

"  I  don't  care  what  any  one  else  may  think," 
rushed  on  Kathrien,  swept  along  upon  the  wave  of 
a  strange  exultation  that  bore  her  far  out  of  her 
wonted  timid  self.  "  People  have  the  right  to 
think  for  themselves.  I  believe  Oom  Peter  has 
been  here,  to-night!" 

"  I  am  here,  Katje,"  breathed  the  Dead  Man. 

"  I  believe  he  is  here,  now!  "  declared  Kathrien, 
her  eyes  aglow,  and  her  face  flushed.  "  He  is 
here.  Oh,  Oom  Peter  I "  she  cried,  her  arms 
stretched  wide  in  appeal,  her  face  alight,  her  voice 
rising  like  that  of  a  prophetess  of  old.  "  Oom 
Peter,  if  you  can  hear  me  now,  give  me  back  my 
promise!  Give  it  back  to  me — or  I'll  take  it 
back/" 

"  I  did  give  it  back  to  you,  dear,"  answered 
Peter  Grimm  happily.  "  But,  oh,  what  a  time 
I've  had  putting  it  across !  " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MR.   BATHOLOMMEY  TESTIFIES 

To  Whom  It  May  Concern: 

I  am  Henry  Batholommey,  rector  of  the  Protes 
tant  Episcopal  church  at  Grimm  Manor,  New 
York  State.  My  neighbour,  Andrew  McPherson, 
M.D.,  has  asked  me  to  substantiate,  so  far  as  lies 
in  my  power,  certain  statements  in  a  paper  he 
is  preparing  for  the  Society  of  Psychical  Research, 
concerning  certain  recent  happenings  in  the  house 
of  my  former  parishioner,  the  late  Peter  Grimm 
of  this  place. 

I  refuse. 

I  understand,  also,  that  in  telling  the  story 
broadcast,  as  he  has  done,  he  has  made  free  use 
of  my  name  and  that  of  my  wife,  as  witnesses 
to  these  happenings.  Wherefore,  I  am  daily  in 
receipt  of  fully  a  dozen  letters  of  enquiry.  Re 
porters,  so-called  scientists,  mystics  with  long  hair 
and  unclean  nails,  and  cranks  and  practical  jokers 
of  every  sort  and  description  have  taken  to  call 
ing  at  the  rectory,  at  inconvenient  hours,  to  cross- 
question  me. 

254 


MR.  BATHQLGMMEY  TESTIFIES        255 

For  example :  one  disreputable  man,  reeking  of 
cheap  liquor,  came  to  me  yesterday  with  the  in 
formation  that  the  story  of  Peter  Grimm's  return 
had  converted  him  and  that  (with  some  slight 
temporary  financial  assistance  from  me)  he  was 
prepared  to  renounce  liquor  and  mend  his  ways. 
He  looked  like  a  penitent.  He  talked  like  a  pen 
itent.  But  he  most  assuredly  did  not  smell  like 
a  penitent.  And  I  sent  him  about  his  business. 

This  was  but  one  of  many  irritating  interrup 
tions  upon  my  parish  work  to  which  Dr.  McPher- 
son's  use  of  my  name  has  subjected  me. 

In  view  of  all  this,  I  deem  it  advisable  to  save 
myself  from  further  annoyance  and  to  stop  the 
rumour  that  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  has  turned 
Spiritualist,  by  issuing  the  following  brief  state 
ment  : 

Dr.  McPherson  is  desirous  that  my  wife  and 
myself  endorse  his  belief  that  the  occurrences  at 
the  home  of  the  late  Peter  Grimm  were  of  a  super 
natural  nature. 

We  shall  do  no  such  thing. 

For  the  single  reason  that  neither  Mrs.  Bathol- 
ommey  nor  myself,  after  mature  reflection  and  dis 
passionate  discussion,  can  find  one  atom  of  the 
Supernatural  in  any  of  the  events  that  transpired 


256      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

there.  Perhaps  I  can  best  make  clear  my  point  of 
view  by  rehearsing  the  case  and  my  own  very  small 
connection  therewith. 

sThe  fact  that  Dr.  McPherson  is  of  a  different 
denomination  from  myself  in  no  way  biases  my 
feelings  in  this  case.  I  am  an  Episcopalian. 
And  I  am  of  liberal  views  toward  those  who  are 
not; — with  the  possible  exception  of  Baptists, 
Presbyterians,  Congregntionalists,  Methodists,  and 
members  of  a  few  other  denominations  outside 
the  direct  Apostolic  Succession.  Yet  I  confess  I 
was  shocked  at  the  conversion  (or  perversion)  of 
my  old  neighbour,  McPherson,  to  a  cult  which, 
for  want  of  a  better  word,  I  must  designate  as 
"  Spiritualism." 

He  told  me  of  a  compact  he  had  made  with 
my  dear  friend  and  parishioner,  Peter  Grimm,  to 
the  effect  that  whichever  of  them  should  first  leave 
this  mortal  life  was  to  return  and  make  known  his 
presence  to  the  other.  I  told  McPherson  to  his 
face  that  I  regarded  such  a  compact  as  being  even 
more  sacrilegious  than  senseless.  My  good  wife 
echoed  my  sentiments.  McPherson,  who  has  not 
the  admirable  control  over  his  temper  so  needful 
to  a  medical  man,  chose  to  become  angry  at  my 
outspoken  opinion  and  said  several  cruelly  unjust 


MR.  BATHOLOMMEY  TESTIFIES        257 

things  concerning  my  own  behaviour  toward  the 
late  Peter  Grimm. 

I  shall  not  stoop  to  denying  or  even  repeating 
what  he  said;  far  less  to  justify  myself.  Yet  I 
should  like  to  mention,  in  passing,  that  his  coarse 
gibe  concerning  my  fawning  on  a  rich  man  is  the 
most  unjust  of  all  his  abominable  assertions. 

I  was  in  the  habit  of  bringing  cases  of  need 
before  Peter  Grimm's  notice,  it  is  true.  And  he 
responded  right  generously  to  every  such  appeal. 
I  enlisted  his  financial  aid  for  the  local  poor,  for 
the  Church  Building  Fund,  for  missions  (home 
and  foreign),  and  for  the  other  worthy  and  needy 
cases. 

But  for  myself  or  for  my  family  I  have  never 
asked  for  one  penny,  either  from  Peter  Grimm  or 
from  any  other  man.  And  as  the  gifts  I  have 
begged  were  in  my  Master's  name  and  solely  for 
my  Master's  service,  I  do  not  consider  I  have 
demeaned  myself.  Be  that  my  sole  defence.  I 
am  content  with  it. 

The  public,  of  late  years,  has  looked  askance 
at  the  attitude  of  clergymen  toward  the  wealthier 
members  of  their  congregation.  And,  in  ninety- 
nine  instances  out  of  a  hundred,  with  absolutely 
no  cause.  The  Church  is  in  need.  The  poor 


258       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

are  in  dire  distress.  Missions  languish  for  the 
few  paltry  thousands  that  would  carry  the  Word 
triumphant  throughout  the  earth. 

Who  is  to  supply  these  needs?  Who  but  the 
clergyman  ?  Out  of  his  own  scanty  salary  ?  That 
hardly  supports  him  and  his.  Yet,  in  proportion, 
he  gives  from  it  as  never  did  a  multimillionaire. 
To  whom  can  he  turn  for  financial  help  in  carry 
ing  out  his  Master's  work?  To  the  Rich  Man. 
And,  in  many  cases,  the  day  is  past  when  he  can 
do  so  without  first  winning  the  personal  liking 
of  that  same  rich  man.  Yes,  and  often  by  flatter 
ing  him  and  smiling  approvingly  at  his  vulgar 
humour  or  soothing  his  equally  vulgar  rages. 

Shame  that  the  deathless  Church  of  God  should 
have  been  brought  to  such  a  pass  1 

Yes,  and  tenfold  shame  to  those  that  sneer  at 
the  clergyman  who  sacrifices  and  tortures  all  that 
is  sensitive  and  sacred  in  himself,  in  the  effort  to 
wheedle  from  the  wealthy  boor  the  money  to  save 
God's  poor  and  God's  souls!  Is  it  pleasant  for 
him  to  fawn  and  to  be  patronised  ?  Others  do  it, 
I  know.  But  for  themselves.  The  clergyman 
must  do  it  in  his  Master's  name  and  for  no  per 
sonal  gain. 

Let  the  rector  refuse  to  lower  himself  thus — 


MR.  BATHOLOMMEY  TESTIFIES        259 

What  happens?  The  rich  man  goes  to  a  church 
where  flattery  and  subservience  are  more  plentiful. 
The  stiff-necked  rector  seeks  in  vain  for  funds. 
For  lack  of  money  his  church  runs  down.  It 
cannot  keep  up  its  charities  and  its  other 
work. 

Who  is  to  blame  ?  The  rector,  of  course.  Let 
us  get  an  up-to-date  man  in  his  place.  And  the 
clergyman  who  refused  to  cringe  finds  himself  not 
only  without  a  church  but  with  a  record  that  bars 
him  from  getting  another  one.  I  do  not  say  this 
state  of  affairs  is  universal.  But  I  do  say,  from 
bitter  experience,  that  it  is  far  too  prevalent  For 
give  my  digression.  I  will  get  back  to  my  state 
ment  with  all  speed. 

I  have  told  of  the  "  compact "  between  Peter 
Grimm  and  Andrew  McPherson.  Mr.  Grimm 
died.  Kathrien  had  promised  him  to  marry  his 
nephew,  Frederik.  She  did  not  love  him.  She 
did  love  James  Hartmann.  She  has  admitted 
both  those  facts  to  me. 

As  the  time  for  the  wedding  drew  near,  she  was 
more  and  more  loath  to  carry  out  her  promise. 
McPherson  attributes  that  distaste  to  the  spiritual 
promptings  of  Peter  Grimm.  Can  any  normal 
woman  (who  has  been  forced  to  marry  one  man 


260      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

while  loving  another)  see  the  remotest  hint  of 
the  Supernatural  in  it?  No! 

Willem,  a  boy  of  epileptic  tendencies — as 
McPherson  himself  admits — had  taken  his  bene 
factor's  death  terribly  to  heart,  and  had  brooded 
over  it  day  and  night.  Is  there  any  reason  to 
doubt  that  in  such  an  unbalanced  nature,  this 
brooding,  coupled  by  fever,  should  have  produced 
a  delirium  in  which  he  believed  he  heard  Peter 
Grimm  speaking  to  him  ? 

He  also  believed,  Kathrien  tells  me,  that  he 
heard  the  circus  parade  pass  the  house  ten  days 
after  it  had  left  town.  Is  one  belief  entitled  to 
greater  credence  than  the  other?  Or  did  the 
ghost  of  a  circus  parade  meander  through  our 
Main  street  at  night,  accompanied  by  a  Spook 
brass  band?  Each  idea  is  quite  as  probable  as  the 
other. 

And,  from  the  boy's  own  statement,  Peter 
Grimm  said  to  him  nothing  original  or  even  be 
tokening  a  mind  more  developed  than  a  child's. 
Willem  knew  Kathrien  was  going  to  marry  Fred- 
erik.  He  knew  she  did  not  want  to  and  that  he 
himself  disliked  and  feared  Frederik.  What 
more  likely  than  that  he  should  imagine  he  heard 
Peter  forbid  the  match? 


MR.  BATHOLOMMEY  TESTIFIES        261 

What  more  likely,  in  his  own  fevered  unhappi- 
ness,  than  that  he  should  think  Peter  Grimm  said 
"  I  am  very  unhappy  "?  Would  a  man  of  Peter 
Grimm's  strength  and  shrewdness  come  back  to 
earth  and  tell  the  child  nothing  of  greater  im 
portance  than  Willem  says  he  told?  And,  if  he 
could  make  Willem  understand  such  phrases  as 
"  I  am  very  unhappy  "  and  "  Kathrien  must  not 
marry  Frederik,"  could  he  not  have  made  the  boy 
understand  anything  else? 

As  to  Frederik  Grimm: — Frederik,  we  know, 
was  nervous  and  overwrought.  His  uncle's  death 
had  been  a  shock — if  not  a  grief.  He  had  the 
added  worry  of  knowing  Kathrien  did  not  really 
love  him.  He  was  in  constant  fear  lest  Anne 
Marie,  on  hearing  of  Peter's  death,  might  com 
municate  with  her  mother  and  lest  the  secret  of  his 
own  relations  with  the  poor  girl  be  exposed.  This 
suspense  added  to  his  nervousness. 

The  sight  of  her  picture  and  the  reading  of 
her  pathetic  letter  stirred  his  conscience.  He 
forced  himself  to  destroy  both  bits  of  evidence. 
And  the  action  strongly  brought  before  his  nerve- 
racked  senses  the  thought  of  what  honourable  old 
Peter  Grimm  would  have  said  of  such  conduct. 
So  strongly,  in  fact,  that  in  the  dark  he  fancied 


262      THE  RETURN  OP  PETER  GRIMM 

he  saw  Grimm's  eyes  glaring  at  him.  The  phe 
nomenon  is  by  no  means  uncommon  and  has  been 
explained  by  scientists  upon  perfectly  natural 
grounds. 

As  to  Willem's  sudden  remembrance  of  half- 
forgotten  facts  concerning  his  own  childhood, 
there  is  no  parent  living  who  cannot  cite  instances 
of  newly  awakened  memory,  in  his  or  her  own 
child,  that  are  quite  as  remarkable.  The  seeing 
of  his  mother's  photograph  brought  before  Willem 
the  recollection  of  scenes  in  which  she  had  played 
a  part;  scenes  that  had  been  crowded  from  his 
mind  by  later  events. 

Frederik  had  just  spoken  harshly  to  him.  And 
that  recalled  harsh  words  Frederik  had  spoken 
to  the  woman  in  the  picture.  And  thus,  quite 
simply,  his  memory  supplied  the  one  needful  link. 
What  is  remarkable  in  all  the  foregoing?  In  fact, 
Shakespeare's  Horatio  says: 

"  There  needs  no  ghost,  my  lord,  come  from  the  grave,  to 
tell  us  this  !  '* 

So  much  for  Dr.  McPherson's  efforts  to  sur 
round  a  series  of  normal  occurrences  with  a  halo 
of  the  Supernatural!  Now,  let  me  add  a  word 
on  my  own  account,  and  I  am  done. 


MR.  BATHOLOMMEY  TESTIFIES        263 

The  Dead  do  not  return  to  the  scene  of  their 
toil  and  pain  and  tears.  Would  a  freed  convict 
sneak  back  to  his  prison  house  or  the  ex-galley 
slave  to  his  oar  ?  The  convalescent  does  not  crawl 
into  the  contagion  ward  again  of  his  free  choice. 
Nor,  I  believe,  would  the  Lord  permit  the  return 
of  the  Dead;  even  to  bear  a  warning  to  those  left 
behind. 

Glance  at  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  St.  Luke  for 
confirmation  of  my  belief; — at  the  parable  of  the 
"  certain  rich  man  who  was  clothed  in  purple  and 
fine  linen  and  fared  sumptuously  every  day  ";  and 
who,  in  torment,  after  death,  called  to  Abraham 
to  send  Lazarus  from  Heaven  to  visit  the  Tor 
tured  One's  five  brethren : 

"  That  he  may  testify  unto  men,  lest  they  also 
come  into  this  place  of  torment. 

"  Abraham  said  to  him :  '  They  have  Moses  and 
the  prophets.  Let  them  hear  them.' 

"And  he  said:  'Nay,  Father  Abraham,  but  if 
one  went  unto  them  from  the  dead  they  would 
repent' 

"And  he  said  unto  him:  'If  they  hear  not 
Moses  and  the  prophets,  neither  will  they  be  per 
suaded  through  one  rise  from  the  dead.'  " 

No,  the  whole  idea  is  preposterous.     It  is  far 


264      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

outside  of  God's  justice  and  infinitely  farther  be 
yond  His  boundless  mercy. 

"  He  giveth  His  Beloved  sleep  " ; — not  weary, 
hopeless  wanderings  upon  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Peter  Grimm  did  not  return.  And  this  is  the 
only  comment  I  care  to  make  upon  Andrew 
McPherson's  amazing  theory. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DR.  MCPHERSON'S  STATEMENT 

DR.  JAMES  HYSLOP. 

My  Dear  Sir: — After  reading  the  account  which 
I  am  mailing  to  you  under  separate  cover,  will 
you  kindly  forward  it  to  the  American  Branch  of 
the  Society  of  Psychical  Research?  As  you  will 
observe,  it  is  a  verbatim  report  of  a  "  seance." 

For  your  personal  information,  I  beg  to  make 
the  following  supplementary  statement. 

At  the  residence  of  Peter  Grimm, — I  should  say 
the  late  Peter  Grimm — (the  well-known  horticul 
turist  of  Grimm  Manor,  N.  Y.)  certain  phe 
nomena  occurred  this  evening  which  would  clearly 
indicate  the  Return  of  Peter  Grimm,  ten  days  after 
his  decease.  At  my  first  free  moment  after  the 
manifestation,  I  jotted  down  in  shorthand  the 
exact  dialogue,  etc.,  which  I  have  since  transcribed 
into  the  enclosed  report. 

While  Peter  Grimm  was  invisible  to  all,  three 
people  were  present  besides  myself;  including  the 
"  recipient,"  a  child  of  eight,  who  had  been  ill, 
but  was  almost  normal  at  the  time. 

265 


266      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

No  spelling  out  of  signals  nor  automatic  writ 
ing  was  employed,  but  word  of  mouth. 

I  made  a  compact  with  Peter  Grimm  while  he 
was  in  the  flesh  that  whichever  one  of  us  should 
go  first  was  to  return  and  give  the  other  some 
sign.  And  I  propose,  by  the  enclosed  report,  to 
show  positive  proof  that  Peter  Grimm  kept  his 
compact  and  that  I  assisted  in  the  carrying  out 
of  his  instructions. 

Let  me  introduce  myself  and  briefly  recount  the 
circumstances  which  led  up  to  the  seance,  as  well 
as  my  own  state  of  mind  concerning  manifesta 
tions: 

I  am  a  practising  physician  in  the  town  of 
Grimm  Manor,  a  suburb  of  New  York  City, 
settled  at  the  time  of  the  Dutch  occupation  of 
Manhattan,  and  named  after  the  family,  the 
Grimms,  which  first  owned  the  farm  that  is  now 
the  town  site. 

I  have  always  been  greatly  interested  in  Spirit 
ualism.  I  have  read  nearly  all  that  has  been 
written  on  this  subject  and  have  known,  person 
ally,  most  all  the  so-called  mediums.  I  have  at 
tended  seances  in  this  country  and  abroad  and 
have  by  turns  been  convinced  that  they  were  gen 
uine  or  frauds. 


DR.  MCPHERSON'S  STATEMENT        267 

Up  to  the  time  when  the  events  which  I  am 
about  to  narrate  began  to  occur,  I  had  been  un 
able  to  come  to  a  definite  decision,  as  far  as  my 
own  belief  was  concerned,  as  to  whether  or  not 
the  spirits  of  the  dead  could  communicate  with 
the  living.  At  one  time  I  would  be  led  to  believe 
they  could,  but  then  the  exposure  of  some  well- 
known  medium  as  a  trickster  would  change  my 
opinion  and  I  would  again  find  myself  puzzling 
vainly  over  the  answer  to  this  problem. 

You  doubtless  remember  the  furore  which  was 
created  in  Spiritualistic  circles  by  the  announce 
ment  of  an  English  physician  that,  in  accordance 
with  a  compact,  a  friend  had  communicated  with 
him  after  death. 

This  idea  fascinated  me.  There  is  an  old  Jap 
anese  myth  to  the  effect  that  if  a  dying  man  re 
solves  to  do  a  certain  act  the  body  will,  after 
death,  perform  that  act.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
if  a  man  could  die  and  return  to  earth  in  spirit 
it  must  be  as  the  result  of  a  resolution  to  return 
made  just  before  death  and  constituting  the  ruling 
passion  at  the  time  of  death  itself.  I  determined 
that  I  would  put  this  theory  to  the  test. 

We  of  this  materialistic  world  of  barter  and 
sale  give  little  time  to  the  consideration  of  the 


Hereafter.  There  are  occasions  with  most  of  us 
when  the  unanswerable  Why  and  Whence  obtrudes 
itself  on  our  vision,  but  it  is  a  fleeting  impression 
which  vanishes  with  the  rising  of  the  sun  on 
the  day's  work.  The  wonder  and  mystery  of  life 
may  come  home  to  us  at  the  birth  of  a  child  or 
the  death  of  a  loved  one,  but  we  soon  cease  to 
marvel  at  the  miracle  of  the  former  and  a  new 
joy  banishes  grief. 

For,  we  say,  what  avails  it,  this  search  after 
the  Land  of  the  Hereafter,  if  there  be  such  a 
place?  No  one  has  ever  come  back  to  tell  us 
that  there  is;  or  what  it  is  and  where.  It  is  all 
a  matter  of  conjecture  in  which  we  are  following 
round  the  circle  trod  by  man  since  the  world  began. 

One  man  believes  that  there  is  a  Hereafter,  a 
spirit  land  in  which  the  Soul,  stripped  of  all  evil, 
reaches  a  state  of  perfection  and  divine  happiness 
which  justifies  the  stupendous  feat  of  the  Creation 
and  the  travail  of  those  who  are  bound  to  the 
treadmill  of  life. 

Another  believes,  pointing  for  proof  to  the 
dead  branches  from  which  new  leaves  spring,  that 
life  is  endless,  and  that  the  soul,  leaving  the  worn- 
out  shell,  takes  up  its  dwelling  in  another  form. 
Another  with  scorn  tells  us  that  all  life  is  a  joke 


DR.  McPHERSON's  STATEMENT        269 

and  we  are  the  butts  of  the  cruel  will  of  an  Om 
nipotent  power.  And  still  another  says : 

"  Any  and  all  beliefs  in  this  matter  are  good, 
for  none  can  be  proved.  Let  each  believe  that 
which  gives  him  the  most  happiness,  so  long  as 
it  be  noble  and  sweet  and  true." 

And  with  this  last  I  hold.  So  that  if  it  bring 
peace  and  love  and  contentment  into  the  heart  of 
man,  woman,  or  child  to  believe  that  the  spirit 
of  a  loved  one,  who  has  solved  the  Problem  mor 
tal  cannot  solve,  can  return  to  earth  and  communi 
cate  by  some  sign  or  token  with  those  who  were 
its  companions  when  it  inhabited  a  human  house, 
I  say  it  is  wrong  to  scoff  and  rail  at  this  belief. 

There  has  now  come  to  me  the  proof  that  such 
a  belief  does  bring  peace  and  love  and  content 
ment,  that  it  does  cast  out  evil.  With  regard  to 
the  Psychological  aspects  of  the  circumstances 
which  are  related  in  the  enclosed  transcript,  I  ex 
press  no  opinion.  I  have  never  before  had  the 
feeling  that  a  person  dead  so  far  as  mortal  ex 
istence  was  concerned  was  endeavouring  to  com 
municate  with  me.  The  debates  and  wrangles 
which  go  on  continually  between  those  who  affirm 
and  deny  the  possibility  of  spirit  messages  have 
always  impressed  me,  but  beyond  a  theory,  I  had 


270       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

no  knowledge  as  to  the  right  or  wrong  of  it. 
However,  I  was  strongly  inclined  to  believe. 

The  fact  that  on  many  occasions  so-called  rap- 
pings,  table  liftings,  writings,  and  other  supposed 
spirit  manifestations  have  been  shown  to  be  the 
result  of  mere  human  trickery  does  not  necessarily 
prove  that  such  demonstrations  may  not  be  the 
efforts  of  an  immortal  soul  to  make  its  presence 
known. 

I  say  this  because  I  want  it  understood  that  I 
have  not  allowed  any  prejudice,  favourable  or 
otherwise,  to  creep  into  the  report  that  I  send 
herewith.  I  go  no  further  than  to  say  that  if 
my  report  helps  to  prove  that  the  spirit  of  one 
we  have  loved  and  revered  can  come  back  and 
bring  peace  and  love  and  happiness  to  mortals 
who  are  in  dire  need,  if  it  can  banish  blighting  evil 
from  their  lives;  then  life,  for  all  its  burdens,  is 
not  lived  in  vain. 

Among  my  dearest  friends  was  Peter  Grimm, 
direct  descendant  of  the  founders  of  the  village, 
who  still  occupied  the  old  Manor  House  and  was 
engaged  in  horticulture.  Grimm's  tulips  were 
known  throughout  the  country  and  his  business 
was  a  large  one. 

There  lived  with  him  Kathrien,  whom  he  had 


DR.  MCPHERSON'S  STATEMENT        271 

adopted  at  my  suggestion  (made  at  a  time  when 
he  seemed  to  be  getting  morose  and  verging  on 
becoming  a  recluse)  that  he  needed  a  child  in 
the  house;  Frederik,  his  nephew  and  heir;  James 
Hartmann,  his  secretary,  and  Willem,  the  son  of 
Anne  Marie,  the  daughter  of  Marta,  the  house 
keeper. 

Anne  Marie  had  left  home  in  disgrace  and  had 
sent  Willem  to  her  mother  after  his  father  had 
deserted  her.  Who  this  man  was  had  never  been 
revealed,  and  the  whereabouts  of  Anne  Marie 
herself  were  unknown  at  the  time  I  am  writ 
ing  of. 

At  those  times  when  I  leaned  toward  the  con 
viction  that  communication  between  earth  and 
spirit  land  was  possible,  I  was  prone  to  think  that 
if  it  could  be,  it  must  be  between  a  spirit  and  a 
mortal  who  in  life  typified  in  their  affection  for 
each  other  the  highest  type  of  pure  love.  If  any 
mortal,  I  thought,  could  receive  a  spirit  message, 
it  must  be  one  whose  heart  and  soul  are  spotless, 
whose  love  is  as  that  of  a  little  child  before  it 
has  grown  to  manhood  and  plucked  at  the  leaves 
of  the  Tree  of  Knowledge. 

In  the  day  Kathrien  entered  his  home  there  was 
born  in  Peter  Grimm  a  great  love  for  mankind, 


272      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

but  especially  for  children.  Not  but  that  he  had 
always  been  kindly  and  charitable  to  those  who 
deserved  his  aid,  but  where  before  his  life  had 
been  given  up  to  his  business,  to  making  the  brown 
earth  do  his  will,  he  now  devoted  his  chief  thought 
to  making  Kathrien  happy.  This  love  for  chil 
dren  was  increased  when  Willem  came  to  him,  and 
I  think  the  most  perfect  affection  that  ever  existed 
among  three  persons  was  that  which  these  three 
bore  to  each  other. 

Peter  came  to  me  recently  to  be  treated  for 
a  cold  which,  while  severe,  was  not  in  itself  danger 
ous.  But  in  examining  him  I  found  that  his  heart 
was  in  such  a  condition  that  a  strong  emotion, 
such  as  intense  joy,  anger,  or  fear  might  cause 
instant  death. 

I  determined,  on  discovering  this,  to  ask  him 
to  enter  into  a  compact  with  me  that  whichever 
of  us  should  die  first  should,  after  death,  com 
municate  with  the  survivor.  While  I  was  not 
sure  (although  a  strong  bond  of  affection  existed 
between  us)  that  I  was  a  person  fitted  to  receive 
such  a  communication,  I  was  convinced  that  either 
Kathrien  or  Willem  would  understand  a  message 
sent  to  me  from  the  spirit  land  by  Peter,  and,  if 
the  thing  were  possible,  that  he,  if  he  could  not 


DR.  MCPHERSON'S  STATEMENT       273 

reach  me  directly,  would  do  so  through  one  or 
the  other  of  them. 

I  made  the  mistake  of  telling  Colonel  Lawton 
of  Peter's  condition.  I  might  have  known  that 
he  would  tell  his  wife.  She  told  Mrs.  Batholom- 
mey,  the  wife  of  the  rector. 

When  I  suggested  the  compact  to  Peter  Grimm, 
he  pooh-poohed  the  whole  idea,  laughed  at  me, 
told  me  to  get  such  nonsense  out  of  my  head. 

But  I  stuck  to  it.  I  told  him  of  the  incident 
of  the  English  doctor  and  his  friend,  of  the  great 
service  that  would  be  done  to  humanity  and  sci 
ence  if  he  or  I  could  prove  that  signals  could  be 
exchanged  between  a  land  inhabited  by  the  souls 
of  the  dead  and  this  mortal  earth.  At  last  he 
consented. 

The  rector  and  his  wife  called  after  we  had 
finished  our  argument,  and  Mrs.  Batholommey 
as  much  as  told  Peter  during  the  course  of  the 
conversation  that  he  was  doomed.  Then  poor 
little  Willem  blabbed  the  truth.  He  had  over 
heard  us  discussing  the  matter.  Peter  reiterated 
that  he  would  make  the  compact  with  me. 

We  shook  hands  on  it,  we  sealed  it  with  a  touch 
of  our  glasses  filled  with  Peter  Grimm's  famous 
plum  brandy. 


274       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

There  was  a  circus  in  town,  one  of  those  travel 
ling  country  affairs,  and  the  parade  had  passed   , 
by  the  house.     Peter  gave  Willem  money  to  buy 
tickets. 

That  was  the  last  I  saw  or  heard  in  this  life 
of  mortal  Peter  Grimm,  standing  there  with  a 
smile  on  his  face. 

I  had  been  absent  but  a  few  minutes  when  I 
heard  Kathrien  crying  my  name.  I  ran  back  to 
the  house.  Peter  Grimm  was  dead. 

Ten  days  later  came  the  seance  described  in  my 
enclosure.  Later  in  the  evening  I  went  to  Wil- 
lem's  room  and  had  a  quiet  little  talk  with  him. 
He  was  calm  again  and  spoke  freely  of  what 
seemed  to  him  an  utterly  natural  experience.  And 
from  that  conversation  I  believe  I  confirmed  still 
further  what  was  already  established  as  a  fact,  so 
far  as  I  was  concerned.  Peter  Grimm  had  kept 
his  compact  with  me.  He  had  returned! 

I  wanted  to  talk  with  Willem  at  a  time  when 
he  was  in  a  normal  condition  and  not  in  the  thrall 
of  fear.  I  found  him  without  fever,  though 
weaker  than  he  had  been  for  several  days.  I 
assured  him  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from 
Frederik,  that  all  of  us  were  his  friends,  and  that 
no  harm  could  come  to  him. 


DR.  MCPHERSON'S  STATEMENT        275 

"  Now  tell  me,  Willem,"  I  said,  "  all  about  your 
seeing  Uncle  Peter  this  evening." 

"  I  awoke  very  thirsty  and  went  downstairs  for 
a  drink,"  the  boy  told  me  in  effect.  "  The  ice 
pitcher  felt  so  cool  that  I  rested  my  cheek  against 
it  and  then  I  drank  some  more  water.  Then  I 
heard  some  one  calling  me. 

"  '  Willem,  Willem,'  a  voice  said,  '  can  you  hear 
me?  Is  there  no  one  in  this  house  that  can  hear 
me?' 

"  I  couldn't  make  out  at  first  who  it  was.  Then 
I  heard  it  again: 

"  '  Willem,  Willem,'  it  said,  *  you  must  hear 
me.' 

"  Then  I  looked  around  and  saw  Mynheer 
Peter's  hat  on  the  rack,  and  I  knew  he  must  have 
come  back.  But  I  couldn't  see  him. 

"'Where  are  you,  Mynheer  Peter?'  I  asked 
him. 

" '  You  cannot  see  me,  Willem,  but  I 
am  here.  I  want  you  to  tell  them  all  I  am 
here.' 

"  That's  as  near  as  I  can  remember  it.  We 
talked  a  while  longer.  .Then  he  said  something 
like: 

"  *  Go  over  and  look  on  the  table,  Willem.' 


276       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  I  went  to  the  table  and  saw  some  torn  pieces 
of  paper. 

"  *  Put  them  together,  Willem,'  said  Mynheer 
Grimm. 

"  When  I  had  got  it  all  pasted  together  I  saw 
it  was  my  mother,  Anne  Marie ;  and  then  you  and 
Miss  Kathrien  came  down. 

"  Uncle  Peter  was  standing  over  there  about  in 
the  middle  of  the  room.  I  could  tell  from  his 
voice,  but  I  couldn't  see  him. 

"  *  Tell  them  about  the  man  who  made  Anne 
Marie  cry,'  Mynheer  Peter  told  me.  And  he 
kept  saying,  *  Hurry,  Willem,  before  it  is  too  late ; 
he  is  coming.  Hurry,  Willem,  hurry,'  and  just 
before  Mr.  Frederik  came  in  Mynheer  Peter  said, 
*  Tell  them  now,  Willem ;  he  is  listening  at  the 
door.' 

"  Before  you  came  down  I  asked  Mynheer 
Peter  to  take  me  back  with  him  when  he  went 
and  he  said  he  would." 

Now,  mind  you,  Willem  knew  nothing  of  the 
compact  Peter  and  I  had  made. 

Peter  Grimm  had  said  he  would  return,  if  he 
could.  I  believe  he  did  so. 

My  studies  of  the  so-called  "  Occult  "  have  done 
my  reputation  in  this  narrow  provincial  town  much 


DR.  McPnERSON's  STATEMENT        277 

harm.  I  have  been  sneered  at  as  a  "  spiritualist," 
a  "  spook  hunter,"  an  "  agnostic."  I  am  none  of 
the  three.  I  am  a  seeker  after  Truth;  even  while 
fully  aware  of  the  impossibility  of  absolutely 
finding  that  elusive  quality.  Nor  do  my  researches 
in  any  way  conflict  with  revealed  religion,  nor  in 
the  simple  Bible  faith  that  has  ever  been  mine 
and  that  shall  forever  sustain  me. 

Having  thus  set  forth  my  personal  position  in 
the  matter — perhaps  tediously  and  to   an  undue 
length, — I  beg  to  call  your  attention  to  my  report. 
Very  truly  yours, 

ANDREW  MCPHERSON,  M.D. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BACK  TO  THE  STORY 

DR.  McPHERSON  occasionally  gave  a  vigorous 
shake  to  his  fountain  pen,  and  made  corrections 
here  and  there. 

It  was  nearly  midnight,  and  he  had  been  writ 
ing  almost  uninterruptedly  since  he  had  followed 
Willem  upstairs  after  the  boy's  flight. 

Willem  had  been  restless  and  feverish,  and  had 
asked  repeatedly  to  be  brought  down  to  the  living- 
room.  He  seemed  irresistibly  drawn  toward  the 
place  where  he  had  talked  with  Peter  Grimm  and 
had  "  almost  seen  him." 

So  the  sofa  had  been  drawn  up  to  the  fire  and 
a  bed  made  for  him  there.  Now,  however,  he 
was  at  last  sleeping  peacefully  in  his  little  upstairs 
room,  and  the  whole  house  was  quiet,  though  no 
one  else  had  gone  to  bed,  and  there  was  every 
where  a  subdued  feeling  of  excitement. 

The  doctor  had  drawn  a  little  table  close  to 
the  vacant  side  of  the  fireplace  (for  the  coals  still 
smouldered,  and  the  night  was  damp  and  chill). 

278 


BACK  TO  THE  STORY  279 

He  had  placed  Willem's  medicines  there;  and  a 
lamp,  the  only  bright  spot  in  the  big  room. 

Outside,  the  world  was  bathed  in  moonlight, 
and  through  the  window  the  arms  of  the  windmill 
could  be  seen,  waving  solemnly  round  and  round 
like  some  strange,  black  mysterious  creature  beck 
oning  silently  from  another  world. 

McPherson  was  preparing  a  formal  statement 
of  the  "  seance "  while  it  was  still  fresh  in  his 
mind.  And  as  Willem  might  need  him,  he  was 
filling  in  a  waiting  hour  by  writing. 

Mrs.  Batholommey's  anxious  face,  encased  in 
a  scarf,  broke  in  upon  his  concentration. 

"  Oh — I'm  so  nervous !  "  exclaimed  the  rector's 
wife,  shudderingly,  as  she  came  into  the  room  and 
going  to  the  piano,  turned  up  the  second  lamp. 

"  How  can  you  sit  here  in  such  a  dim  light, 
after  all  that  has  happened  in  this  room — just  a 
few  hours  ago,  too?" 

Dr.  McPherson,  intent  upon  his  work,  was 
determined  not  to  be  interrupted.  His  only  re 
ply  to  Mrs.  Batholommey  was  the  scratching  of 
his  pen  and  the  rattle  of  paper  as  he  turned  over 
a  page. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  Frederik  had  come  back," 
she  went  on. 


280      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  So  Willem's  feeling  better  again?  "  she  asked, 
advancing  on  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  abstractedly.  "  I  took 
him  upstairs  a  few  minutes  ago." 

"  Strange  how  the  boy  wants  to  remain  in  this 
room !  "  said  Mrs.  Batholommey. 

"M'm "  grunted  Dr.  McPherson  shortly, 

without  looking  up  at  all. 

Mrs.  Batholommey  came  nearer  and  sat  down. 

"Oh,  Doctor!  Doctor!"  she  cried.  "The 
scene  that  took  place  here  to-night  has  completely 
upset  me." 

The  doctor's  only  reply  was  to  turn  his  back 
on  Mrs.  Batholommey  and  begin  reading  his  man 
uscript  aloud  in  an  undertone,  scratching  out  a 
word  here,  adding  something  there. 

Mrs.  Batholommey,  quite  unconscious  that  she 
was  a  nuisance,  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  let 
her  words  flow  on. 

"  Well,  Doctor,  the  breaking  off  of  the  engage 
ment  is — er — sudden,  isn't  it?  We've  been  talk 
ing  it  over  in  the  front  parlour,  Mr.  Batholommey 
and  I." 

The  doctor  darted  a  withering  look  at  her  over 
his  spectacles. 

11 1  suggest  sending  out  a  card "  she  purred, 


BACK  TO  THE  STORY  281 

"just  a  neat  card"  (here  she  measured  off  an 
imaginary  card  with  her  fingers),  "saying  that 
owing  to  the  bereavement  in  the  family  the  wed 
ding  has  been  indefinitely  postponed.  Of  course," 
she  sighed,  "  it  isn't  exactly  true." 

"  Won't  take  place  at  all,"  exploded  the  doctor, 
going  on  at  once  with  his  reading. 

"  Evidently  not,"  said  Mrs.  Batholommey, 
"  but  if  the  whole  matter  looks  very  strange  to 
me — How  is  it  going  to  look  to  other  people — 
especially  when  we  haven't  any — any  rational  ex 
planation — as  yet?  We  must  get  out  of  it  in  some 
fashion.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  how  else  we  can 
explain — I  don't  like  telling  anything  that  isn't 
true — but — there  was  to  be  a  wedding."  Mrs. 
Batholommey  waved  her  right  hand.  "  There 
isn't  to  be  any  wedding,"  she  waved  her  left  hand. 
"  At  least,  Frederik  isn't  to  be  in  it — and  one  must 
account  for  it  somehow?" 

"Whose  business  is  it?"  fired  the  doctor,  in  a 
voice  that  made  Mrs.  Batholommey  start  like  a 
frightened  rabbit. 

For  one  moment  his  eyes  peered  fiercely  at  her 
under  their  shaggy  brows,  and  then  he  returned 
to  his  narrative. 

"  Nobody's  at  all,"  she  made  great  haste  to 


say.  "  Nobody's  at  all — nobody's  at  all,  of 
course.  But  Kathrien's  position  is  certainly  un 
usual;  and  the  strangest  part  of  it  is — she  doesn't 
appear  to  feel  her  situation.  She's  sitting  alone  in 
the  library  seemingly  placid  and  happy.  She  acts 
as  if  a  weight  were  off  her  mind.  But  the  main 
point  I've  been  arguing  is  this:  Should  the  card 
we're  going  to  send  out  have  a  narrow  black  bor 
der,  or  not?  " 

She  turned  toward  the  doctor  and  indicated 
with  her  fingers  the  width  of  black  border  that 
seemed  to  her  to  fit  the  occasion.  But  her  trouble 
was  entirely  wasted. 

Dr.  McPherson  was  once  more  engrossed  in 
his  writing,  and  had  forgotten  her  existence. 

"  Well,  Doctor,"  she  said  in  an  injured  tone, 
"  you  don't  appear  to  be  interested.  You  don't 
even  answer!  " 

"  I  couldn't,"  snapped  Dr.  McPherson.  "  I 
didn't  know  whether  you  were  talking  again  or 
still.'' 

Mrs.  Batholommey  was  hurt,  and  she  showed 
it  in  the  reproachful  look  she  cast  at  the  doctor's 
unassailable,  uninterested  back. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  she  said,  "  all  these  little 
matters  sound  trivial  to  you.  But  men  like  you 


BACK  TO  THE  STORY  283 

couldn't  look  after  the  workings  of  the  next  world, 
if  other  people  didn't  attend  to  this  one.  Some 
body  has  to  do  it,"  she  ended  triumphantly. 

"  I  fully  appreciate  the  fact,  Mistress  Bathol- 
ommey,  that  other  people  are  making  it  possible 
for  me  to  be  myself " 

Here  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a 
couple  of  raps  on  the  window  pane. 

"What's  that?"  cried  Mrs.  Batholommey, 
jumping  up  in  alarm. 

'*  Telegram  for  Frederik  Grimm,"  came  a  voice 
from  the  darkness,  and  a  form  was  silhouetted 
against  the  moonlight. 

"  Mr.  Grimm's  down  at  the  hotel,"  said  Mrs. 
Batholommey,  hastily  throwing  up  the  window, 
"  but  I'll  sign  for  it.  Where  do  I  sign  ?  "  she 
fluttered.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  see,  here!  " 

She  wrote  Frederik's  name,  then  handed  back 
the  book  to  the  telegraph  boy,  and  closed 
the  window.  Just  as  she  laid  the  telegram 
on  the  desk,  Mr.  Batholommey  came  into  the 
room. 

"  Well,  Doctor,"  he  said  with  veiled  sarcasm, 
"  I  would  by  all  means  suggest  that  we  don't  judge 
Frederik  until  the  information  Willem  has  volun 
teered  can  be  verified." 


284      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Umph !  "  grunted  the  doctor. 

Then  he  got  up  and  went  to  the  telephone. 

"  Four— red,"  he  called  to  "  Central." 

Mr.  Batholommey  betook  himself  to  the  vesti 
bule  and  began  to  put  on  his  rubbers  with  method 
ical  care. 

"However,  I  regret"  (he  went  on  as  easily 
as  if  the  doctor  had  not  grunted)  "  that  Frederik 
has  left  the  house  without  offering  some  sort  of 
explanation." 

"Four — red?"  pursued  the  doctor.  "That 
you,  Marget?  I'm  at  Peter's.  I  mean — I'm  at 
the  Grimms'.  No,  don't  wait  up  for  me.  Send 
me  my  bag  here.  I'll  stay  the  night  with  Willem. 
Bye." 

He  put  up  the  receiver  and  began  to  collect  his 
scattered  papers. 

"  Good-night,  Doctor,"  said  the  clergyman. 
"  Good-night,  Rose." 

He  started  toward  the  door,  but  the  doctor 
called  him  back. 

"  Hold  on,  Mr.  Batholommey!  "  he  interposed. 
41  I'm  writing  an  account  of  all  that's  happened 
here  to-night — from  the  very  beginning.  I've  an 
idea  it's  going  to  make  a  stir.  It's  just  the  sort 
of  thing  the  Society  has  been  after " 


BACK  TO  THE  STORY  285 

"  Indeed!  "  said  Mr.  Batholommey  in  a  doubt 
ful  tone. 

"  When  I  have  verified  every  word  of  the  evi 
dence  by  Willem's  mother " 

Here  the  Rev.  Mr.  Batholommey  smiled  behind 
his  hand  in  a  decidedly  secular  way. 

" 1  shall  send  in  my  report,"  continued  the 

doctor.  "  Would  you  have  any  objection  to  the 
name  of  Mrs.  Batholommey  being  used  as  a  wit 
ness?" 

Mr.  Batholommey  hesitated.  His  usually 
placid  eyes  were  full  of  perplexity. 

"  Well— Doctor— I— I " 

But  Mrs.  Batholommey,  unlike  her  temporising 
husband,  did  not  hesitate.  She  rushed  into  the 
conversation  all  unasked. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  don't !  "  she  cried.  "  You  may 
flout  our  beliefs, — but  wouldn't  you  like  to  bolster 
up  your  report  with  an  endorsement  by  the  wife 
of  a  clergyman!  It  sounds  so  respectable  and 
sane,  doesn't  it?  No,  sir!  You  can't  prop  up 
your  wild-eyed  theories  against  the  good  black  of 
one  minister's  coat.  Not  by  any  means !  I  think 
myself  that  you  have  probably  stumbled  on  the 
truth  about  Willem's  mother;  but  that  doesn't 
prove  there's  anything  in  all  your  notions,  for 


286       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

that  child  knew  the  truth  all  along.  He's  eight 
years  old  and  he  was  with  her  until  he  was  five ; — 
and  five's  the  age  of  memory.  He's  a  precocious 
boy,  besides.  Every  incident  of  his  mother's  life 
lingered  in  his  little  mind.  Suppose  you  prove 
by  her  that  it's  all  true? — Still,  Willem  remem 
bered!  And  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

Confident  that  she  had  made  a  good  point, 
Mrs.  Batholommey  gave  her  head  a  toss  and 
left  the  field,  or  to  be  more  exact,  went  out  to  get 
her  husband's  umbrella. 

Mr.  Batholommey  felt  that  after  this  display 
of  colours  on  the  part  of  his  consort,  he  must  needs 
testify  also. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Doctor, —  (mind,  I'm  not 
opposing  your  ideas.  I'm  just  echoing  just  what 
everybody  else  thinks) — don't  you  believe  these 
ideas  are  leading  away  from  the  heaven  we  were 
taught  to  believe  in;  that  they  tend  toward  irre 
sponsibility — toward  eccentricity?  Is  it  healthy 
— that's  the  idea.  Is  it— healthy?" 

Dr.  McPherson  shook  himself  like  a  shaggy 
dog. 

"  Well,  Batholommey,"  he  said,  "  religion  has 
frequently  led  to  the  stake,  and  I  never  heard  the 
Spanish  Inquisition  called  healthy  for  anybody 


BACK  TO  THE  STORY  287 

taking  part  in  it.  Still,  religion  flourishes.  But 
your  old-fashioned,  unscientific,  gilt,  gingerbread 
idea  of  heaven  blew  up  ten  years  ago — went  out. 
My  heaven's  just  coming  in.  It's  new.  Dr.  Funk 
and  a  lot  of  clergymen  are  in  already.  You'd 
better  get  used  to  it,  Batholommey,  and  join  in 
the  procession." 

Having  delivered  this  ultimatum  the  doctor  be 
came  oblivious  to  the  existence  of  the  Batholom 
mey  family  and  gave  his  whole  attention  once 
more  to  his  writing. 

"  H'm !  "  said  Mr.  Batholommey  tolerantly. 
"  When  you  can  convince  me!  "  (He  lapsed  into 
Dutch.)  "Well,  ton  roustin,  Doctor." 

The  clergyman  started  for  the  door,  but  his 
dutiful  wife  was  there  before  him,  his  umbrella 
in  her  hand. 

"  Good-night,  Henry,"  she  said,  beaming  affec 
tionately  on  him.  "  I'll  be  home  to-morrow." 

Then  with  a  most  coquettish  glance,  she  purred 
coyly : 

"You'll  be  glad  to  see  me,  dear,  won't  you?" 

Mr.  Batholommey  beamed  in  his  turn,  and 
patted  her  on  the  cheek. 

"  Yes,  my  church  mouse  I  "  he  said  as  he  kissed 
her  good-bye  and  went  out  into  the  night. 


288       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Mrs.  Batholommey  closed  the  doors  after  him, 
but  immediately  opened  them  a  trifle  and  peered 
through  the  crack. 

"  Look  out,  Henry,  for  the  trolley  cars,"  she 
cried.  "  It's  dark  out  there — And  be  careful  you 
don't  step  into  a  mud  puddle!  They  must  be  as 
deep  as  mill  ponds  after  this  rain,  and  there  aren't 
half  enough  street  lamps  in  this  neighbourhood — 
you'll  be  in  over  your  ankles  before  you  know 
it!" 

"  All  right !  "  came  in  a  diminuendo  from  the 
clergyman's  receding  form.  "  I'll  be  careful. 
Don't  stand  there  taking  cold.  Good-night !  " 

"  Woman,"  thundered  Dr.  McPherson  in  a 
terrible  voice,  "close  that  door!  Do  you  want 
my  lamp  to  blow  clean  out?  How  can  a  body 
write  with  such  goings-on  in  his  ears?  St.  Paul 
was  a  wise  man.  '  Let  the  woman  learn  in  silence,' 
he  said,  '  with  all  subjection.'  Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  heed  that,  and  let  me  write  in  peace  ?  " 

Mrs.  Batholommey  fastened  the  door  with  elab 
orate  and  most  deliberate  care;  then,  as  she  passed 
the  doctor's  table  on  her  way  to  the  front  parlour, 
she  fired  a  parting  shot. 

"  Write  as  much  as  you  like,  Doctor,"  she  said 
loftily.  "  Words  are  but  air.  You  know  and  / 


BACK  TO  THE  STORY  289 

know  and  everybody  knows  that  seeing  is  believ- 
ing." 

"  Damn  everybody !  "  growled  the  doctor, 
frowning  at  the  lady's  retreating  figure.  "  It's 
*  everybody's  '  ignorance  that's  set  the  world  back 
five  hundred  years.  Where  was  I,  before?"  he 
said  to  himself.  "Oh!  Yes." 

And  he  went  back  to  his  Statement. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   BENEFIT  OF   THE   DOUBT 

FREDERIK  came  impatiently  up  the  home  walk. 
The  old  house  was  bathed  in  moonlight;  the 
walk  itself  leading  up  to  it  was  sweet  with  the 
scent  of 'wet  flowers.  The  whole  place  carried 
a  peaceful  air,  as  if  a  blessing  rested  upon  it. 
But  Frederik  heeded  nothing — saw  none  of  the 
beauty  and  mystery.  His  mind  was  filled  with 
quite  different  things. 

He  had  waited  for  hours  at  the  hotel,  expecting 
Hicks  or  his  lawyer.  When  no  one  arrived  at 
the  hour  agreed  upon,  Frederik  felt  a  bit  uneasy, 
but  he  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  Hicks  had 
merely  missed  the  train  and  would  come  on  the 
next  one.  With  growing  apprehension  he  waited, 
smoking  innumerable  cigarettes  while  the  evening 
wore  on,  till  finally  the  last  train  had  come  and 
gone.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  go  back  to 
the  house,  and  face  the  other  matter.  And  he 
dreaded  it!  Oh,  how  he  dreaded  it! 

He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  Kathrien's 
eyes  that  had  first  doubted,  then  accused,  then 

290 


THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  DOUBT        291 

condemned  him.  All  the  while  he  had  waited  at 
the  hotel,  he  had  remembered  those  eyes.  If  he 
had  not  loved  her  sincerely  the  situation  would 
have  been  comparatively  easy  for  him;  he  could 
simply  have  cleared  out — spent  the  rest  of  his  days 
in  Europe,  if  necessary,  so  that  he  might  never 
see  or  hear  of  any  one  connected  with  Grimm 
Manor  again  in  all  his  life. 

But  Kathrien !  Who  could  have  been  near  her 
and  ever  forget  her?  The  turn  of  her  head,  the 
absolute  sweetness  of  her — the  sunshine  she  radi 
ated,  made  it  utterly  impossible  for  one  to  think 
of  forgetting — of  living  all  one's  long  life  without 
her.  Frederik  threw  away  his  cigarette  and 
lighted  another  as  he  stood  outside  the  windows 
of  the  house  and  looked  in. 

Oom  Peter  was  there — how  could  he  go  in  then  ? 
Common  sense  told  him  that  he  had  been  smoking 
too  much  and  his  nerves  had  gone  bad — that  he 
had  become  an  old  woman  with  his  fears  and 
tremblings ;  yet — he  knew  Oom  Peter  was  there — 
Well  (he  shrugged  his  shoulders),  about  all  the 
harm  that  could  be  done  had  been  done,  and  he 
had  the  money  now,  anyway,  so  he  might  as  well 
go  in  and  find  out  the  present  state  of  affairs. 
There  might  be,  there  ought  to  be,  some  word 


292       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

from  Hicks  by  this  time.  With  tight-shut  lips, 
he  walked  quickly  up  the  "  stoop  "  steps  and  into 
the  house. 

As  he  came  into  the  living-room  he  glanced  at 
the  doctor,  who,  with  bulky  form  crouched  over 
the  little  table,  was  still  busily  writing  and  heard 
nothing. 

Fredcrik  half-unconsciously  looked  toward 
Kathrien's  room,  then  removed  his  silk  hat  with 
its  mourning  band,  and  his  black  gloves,  and  laid 
them  with  his  cane  on  the  hall  table. 

Then  he  turned  toward  Dr.  McPherson. 

"  Good-evening,  Doctor,"  he  said  shortly. 
"  Any  of  them  come  to  their  senses  yet?  " 

There  was  a  defiant  ring  in  the  last  sentence, 
though  he  knew  in  his  heart  that  his  cause  was 
lost. 

The  doctor  looked  up  long  enough  to 
say: 

"Oh,  Frederik,  you're  back  again,  are  you?'* 
then  went  on  with  his  writing. 

Frederik  glanced  furtively  around  the  shadowy 
room,  and  then  lighted  some  candles  in  an  effort 
to  make  the  place  more  cheerful.  Suddenly  his 
eye  was  riveted  on  the  telegram  resting  conspicu 
ously  on  his  uncle's  desk.  On  the  very  spot,  so 


THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  DOUBT        293 

it  happened,  where  he  had  burned  Anne 
Marie's  letter.  He  put  down  his  cigarette 
quickly. 

"Is  that  telegram  for  me?"  he  asked  in  an 
eager  tone. 

"  Yes,"  snorted  Dr.  McPherson. 

"Oh "  Frederik  said.  "It  will  explain 

perhaps  why  I — I've  been  kept  waiting  at  the 
hotel — I  had  an  appointment  to  meet  a  man  who 
wanted  to  buy  this  business." 

"  Ha !  "     The  doctor  grunted  indignantly. 

Frederik  cleared  his  throat. 

"  I  may  as  well  tell  you — I'm  thinking  of  sell 
ing  out  root  and  branch." 

At  this  amazing  news  the  doctor  got  up  slowly, 
and  turning  his  bushy  head  toward  Frederik,  fixed 
his  keen  eyes  upon  him.  He  was  all  attention 
now. 

"Yes ?" 

Then  with  a  sheepish  laugh  Frederik  abruptly 
changed  the  subject. 

"  You'll  think  it  strange,"  he  said,  "  but  I  simply 
cannot  make  up  my  mind  to  go  near  the  old  desk 
of  my  uncle's — peculiar,  yes — isn't  it?" 

He  smiled  rather  a  sickly  smile  at  the  doctor, 
and  hesitated. 


294      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  I've  got  a  perfect — Ha !  Ha ! — terror  of  the 
thing!" 

His  laughter  was  quite  mirthless  and  his  fear 
made  him  a  pitiable  object. 

The  doctor,  not  trying  to  hide  his  contempt 
for  him,  went  to  the  desk,  took  the  telegram,  and 
threw  it  in  Frederik's  direction,  not  even  troubling 
to  aim  accurately. 

It  hit  the  floor  about  two  feet  away  from  the 
younger  man's  trimly  shod  feet,  and  he  quickly 
reached  over  sideways  and  seized  it.  He  tore  it 
open.  Then,  as  his  eyes  took  in  the  message  it 
contained,  he  drew  a  long  breath. 

He  sat  down  mechanically,  looking  straight 
ahead  of  him. 

"  Billy  Hicks,"  he  said  slowly  in  a  dazed  voice, 
"  Billy  Hicks,  the  man  I  was  to  sell  out  to,  is  de — 
I  knew  it — This  afternoon  when  he  phoned — some 
thing  told  me — but  I  wouldn't  believe  it." 

Slowly  he  put  the  telegram  in  its  envelope,  and 
then  put  the  envelope  into  his  pocket;  but  the  dazed 
look  never  left  his  eyes,  and  his  face  was  grey 
white. 

"  Doctor,"  he  said,  turning  his  eyes  at  last, 
"  as  sure  as  you  live,  somebody  else  is  doing  my 
thinking  for  me  in  this  house." 


THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  DOUBT        295 

Dr.  McPherson's  heavy  eyebrows  met  in  an 
earnest  frown  as  he  studied  Frederik. 

"What?"  he  queried. 

"  To-night — here  in  this  room,"  Frederik  went 
on  in  a  voice  full  of  awe,  "  I  thought  I  saw  my 
uncle  there "  v 

He  pointed  toward  the  desk  with  a  little 
shudder. 

"Eh?"  said  the  doctor,  with  popping  eyes, 
coming  a  step  nearer.  "  You  really  mean  that 
you  thought  you  saw  Peter  Grimm?" 

"  And  just  before  I — I  saw  him — I — I — had 
the  strangest  impulse  to  go  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  and  call  Kitty — give  her  the  house — and 
run — run — get  out." 

"  Oh !  "  cried  the  doctor  sarcastically.  "  A 
good  impulse.  I  seel  Some  one  else  must  have 
been  thinking  for  you — certainly." 

"  When  I  wouldn't  do  it,"  the  scared  voice  went 
on,  "  I  thought  he  gave  me  a  terrible  look."  He 
covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  "  A  terrible 
look." 

"Your  uncle?"  demanded  Dr.  McPherson. 

"  Yes,"  breathed  Frederik.  "  Och!  God !  I 
won't  forget  that  look !  "  he  cried  excitedly,  un 
covering  his  eyes  again.  "  And  as  I  started  from 


296       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

the  room — he  blotted  out — I  mean  I  saw  him  blot 
out — Then  I  left  the  photograph  on  the  desk, 
and " 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor  triumphantly. 
"  That's  how  Willem  came  by  it.  Had  you  never 
had  this  impulse  before — to  give  up  Kathrien — 
to  let  her  have  the  cottage?  " 

"Not  much — I  hadn't!"  said  Frederik  de 
cidedly,  walking  back  and  forth  a  moment. 

Then,  looking  toward  the  desk,  he  reached  out 
his  hand  until  it  touched  the  back  of  a  chair  beside 
it,  and,  giving  the  chair  a  quick  pull  out  of  what 
was  evidently  to  him  a  danger  zone,  he  sat  down. 

"  I  told  you  some  one  else  was  thinking  for 
me,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  want  to  give  her  up.  I 
love  her."  (His  eyes  went  dark.)  "  But  if 
she's  going  to  turn  against  me  for — well,  I'm  not 
going  to  sit  here  and  cry  about  it.  But  I'll  tell 
you  one  thing:  from  this  time  I  propose  to  think 
for  myself.  I've  done  with  this  house,"  he  cried, 
getting  up.  "  I'd  like  to  sell  it  along  with  the  rest 
and  let  a  stranger  " — he  flung  the  chair  recklessly 
against  the  desk — "  raze  it  to  the  ground. 

"  When  I  walk  out  of  here  to-night  she  can 
have  it." 

He  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  desk  a  moment. 


THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  DOUBT        297 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  sleep  here — I  give  her  the 
house  because — well,  I " 

'  You  want  to  be  on  the  safe  side  in  case  he 
was  there !  "  scoffed  Dr.  McPherson. 

Frederik  dropped  his  voice  almost  to  a  whis 
per,  and  there  was  perplexity  in  it  as  well  as 
awe. 

"  How  do  you  account  for  it  anyway,  Doctor?  '* 
he  asked. 

Instead  of  answering,  the  doctor  asked  another 
question. 

"  Frederik,"  he  said,  "  when  did  you  see  Anne 
Marie  last?" 

"  Now,"  said  Frederik  disagreeably,  "  I'm  not 
answering  questions." 

"  I  think  it  only  fair  to  tell  you,"  said  Dr. 
McPherson,  "  that  it  won't  matter  a  damn  whether 
you  answer  me  or  not.  Don't  fret  yourself  that 
I'm  not  going  to  find  her.  This  has  come  home 
to  me.  I'm  off  to  the  city  to-morrow.  I'll  have 
the  truth  from  her;  if  I  have  to  call  in  the  police 
to  trace  her." 

Frederik  looked  drearily  at  the  doctor,  then 
took  up  his  gloves  and  began  to  put  them  on. 
After  a  pause  he  said  dully,  mechanically: 

"  Oh,  I  saw  her  about  three  years  ago." 


298       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"Never  since?"  probed  the  doctor. 

"  No." 

"  What  occurred  the  Jast  time  you  saw  her?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Frederik  lifelessly.  "  What  always 
occurs  when  a  young  man  realises  that  he  has  his 
life  before  him — and  that  he  must  be  respected, 
must  think  of  his  future?  " 

"A  scene  took  place,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,"  Frederik  agreed  laconically. 

"Was  Willem  present?"  went  on  the  interro 
gation. 

"  Yes,  she  held  him  in  her  arms." 

"And  then — what  happened?"  the  doctor  in 
sisted. 

Frederik  dropped  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  then  I  left  the  house." 

He  found  his  hat  and  cane  as  he  spoke,  and 
walked  slowly  toward  the  door. 

"  Then  it's  all  true,"  cried  Dr.  McPherson  in 
wonderment,  staring  abstractedly  at  the  floor. 
He  raised  his  head  suddenly  and  looked  with  stern 
eyes  at  Frederik. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  for  Willem?  "  he 
-demanded. 

"Well,"  temporised  that  noble  soul,  "I'm  a 
rich  man  now — and  if  I  recognise  him — there 


THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  DOUBT        299 

might  be  trouble.  His  mother's  gone  to  the  dogs 
anyway " 

He  left  the  speech  unfinished  and  turned  his  head 
away  uncomfortably.  He  could  not  say  such 
things  and  meet  the  doctor's  scorching  look. 

"You  damned  young  scoundrel!:"  bellowed 
McPherson  in  wrath.  "  Oh,  what  an  act  erf 
charity  if  the  good  Lord  took  Willem ! — And  I 
say  it  with  all  my  heart.  Out  of  all  yotr  have — 
not  a  crumb  for- " 

"  I  want  you  to  know  that  I've  sweated  for 
that  money,"  Frederik  turned1  on  the  doctor  long 
enough  to  say.  "  I've  sweated  for  it,  and  I'm 
going  to  keep  it!  " 

"You  -what?"  howled  Dr.  McPherson  jeer- 
mgly. 

'  Yes,"  Frederik  cried  in  the  greatest  excite 
ment,  all  his  calmness  forsaking  him  utterly. 
"I've  sweated  for  it!  I  went  to  Jail  for  it. 
Every  day  I  have  been  in  this  house  has  been  spent 
in  prison.  I've  been  doing  time.  Do  you  think 
it  didn't  get  on  my  nerves?  What  haven't  I  had 
to  do !  I've  gone  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock  and  lain 
there  thinking  how  New  York  was  just  waking 
up  at  that  tfme,  and  how  miserably  I  was  out  of 
it  all.  Lord!  I've  got  up  at  cock-crow  to  be 


300       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

in  time  for  grace  at  the  breakfast  table.  Why, 
didn't  I  take  a  Sunday-school  class  to  please 
him? 

"  Lord !  Didn't  I  hand  out  the  infernal  cornu 
copias  at  the  Church's  silly  old  Christmas  tree," 
he  went  on  quickly,  "  while  he  played  Santa  Claus? 
What  more  can  a  fellow  do  to  earn  his  money? 
Don't  you  call  that  sweating?  No,  sir!  I've 
danced  like  a  damned  hand-organ  monkey  for  the 
pennies  he  left  me,  and  I  had  to  grin  and  touch 
my  hat  and  make  believe  I  liked  it.  Now  I'm 
going  to  spend  every  cent  for  my  own  personal 
pleasure." 

Once  more  Frederik  started  to  go. 

"Will  rich  men  never  learn  wisdom?"  solilo 
quised  Dr.  McPherson  as  he  began  to  prepare  some 
medicine  for  Willem. 

"  No,  they  won't,"  Frederik  flung  back  over 
his  shoulder.  "  But  in  every  fourth  generation 
there  comes  along  a  wise  fellow — a  spender. 
Well,  I'm  the  spender  here." 

He  pulled  out  another  cigarette,  lighted  it,  and 
put  on  his  hat. 

"  Shame  on  you !  "  cried  the  doctor  indignantly. 
"  Your  breed  ought  to  be  exterminated !  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  Frederik  declared.     "  We're  as  nee- 


THE  BENEFIT  OF  THE  DOUBT        301 

essary  as  you  are.  We're  the  real  wealth  dis 
tributors.  I  wish  you  good-night,  Doctor." 

And  he  was  gone. 

Disgust  was  still  written  all  over  the  doctor's 
face  as  he  measured  the  medicine  carefully  and 
emptied  it  into  a  glass  of  water.  He  picked  up 
the  candelabrum  in  his  other  hand,  and  was  just 
starting  toward  the  stairs  and  Willem's  room  when 
Kathrien  came  in. 

"  Kathrien ! "  he  cried  in  a  ringing  voice. 
"  Burn  up  your  wedding  dress!  We've  made  no 
mistake.  I  can  tell  you  that !  " 

A  moment  more  and  he  climbed  the  stairs  and 
had  disappeared  into  Willem's  room,  leaving 
Kathrien  motionless,  her  face  lighted  with  happy 
serenity.  Then  she  went  softly  to  Oom  Peter's 
worn  old  desk  chair,  and,  standing  behind  it,  put 
her  arms  around  its  sides  lovingly,  almost  pro- 
tectingly — quite  as  if  its  former  owner  were  sitting 
there  and  could  feel  her  gentle  caress. 

"  Oom  Peter,"  she  whispered  tenderly,  and  her 
dreamy  eyes  grew  dreamier,  "  Oom  Peter — I  know 
I  am  doing  what  you  would  have  me  do." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"  ONLY   ONE   THING   REALLY   COUNTS  " 

AND  Peter  Grimm,  standing  in  the  shadows, 
nodded  happy  assent  to  her  cry.  The  Dead 
Man's  ageless  face  was  wondrous  bright.  It 
shone  with  a  joy  that  made  the  rugged  features 
beautiful. 

His  work  was  done.  His  long  journey  from 
the  Unknown  had  not  failed.  The  one  deed  of 
his  mortal  life  that  could  have  wrought  ill  was 
undone.  He  had  atoned  for  a  single  fault  and 
had  seen  the  ill  effects  of  that  fault  brought  to 
nothing.  He  could  go  back  with  a  calm  mind. 
All  was  well  in  his  earthly  home. 

But  he  was  not  yet  wholly  content.  One  task 
remained.  A  light  task,  and,  to  guess  from  his 
radiant  face,  a  welcome  one.  And  even  now  he 
was  bringing  to  pass  its  completion.  For  his  eyes 
turned  from  their  loving  scrutiny  of  Kathrien  and 
rested  on  the  outer  door.  And,  as  in  response 
to  an  unspoken  summons,  footfalls  were  heard  in 
the  entry. 

At    the    sound,     Kathrien's     drooping    figure 
302 


"ONLY  ONE  THING  REALLY  COUNTS"    303 

straightened.  And  a  glow  came  into  her  tired 
eyes.  The  outer  door  opened  and  James  Hart- 
mann  came  in.  He  took  an  impulsive  step  to 
ward  the  girl.  Then  he  remembered  himself. 
Turning  aside  to  the  rack,  he  hung  his  coat  and 
hat  on  it,  and  asked,  as  to  a  casual  acquaintance: 

"  Have  you  seen  Frederik  anywhere  ?  He  told 
me  hours  ago  that  he'd  join  me  in  the  office  in  a 
few  minutes.  I  waited,  but  he  didn't  come.  Then 
Marta  told  me  he  had  gone  down  to  the  hotel. 
I  went  over  to  see  father,  and'  I  stopped  at  the 
hotel  on  my  way  back.  They  said  Frederik  had 
been  there,  but  that  he  had  just  gone.  I'm-  rather 
tired  of  playing  hide-and-seek  with  him.  Has  he 
come  in  yet?  " 

"  He  has  come  in.  But  I  think  he  has  gone 
again.  And — and,  James,  I  think  he  will  not 
come  here  again." 

"What?  Then  the  wedding  won't  be  at  the 
house?" 

"  The  wedding  won't  be — anywhere." 

"Kathrien!" 

He  stared  at  her,  seeking  to  read  grief,  humilia 
tion,  or,  at  the  very  least,  the  anger  engendered 
of  a  lovers'  quarrel.  But  her  face  was  serene, 
even  happy.  The  worry  was  gone  that  had  lurked 


304      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

behind  her  gentle  eyes.  The  furrow  had  been 
smoothed  from  the  low,  white  brow,  and  even 
the  pathetic  aura  of  sorrow  that  had  clung  to  her 
as  a  garment  since  Peter  Grimm's  death  had  de 
parted. 

"  Kathrien!  "  he  repeated  doubtfully,  his  heart 
thumping  in  an  unruly  fashion  that  well-nigh 
choked  him. 

The  serene  calm  of  the  girl's  face  fled  beneath 
his  eager,  troubled  gaze. 

"  Frederik  has  gone,"  she  said  briefly.  "  I  am 
not  going  to  marry  him.  I  broke  our  engagement 
this  evening." 

"  And  you  are  free — free  to ?  " 

He  checked  himself,  fearful  to  believe  in  the 
marvellous  fortune  that  seemed  to  have  come  all 
at  once  from  the  Unattainable  into  his  very  grasp. 
And,  girl-like,  Kathrien  was,  of  a  sudden,  panic 
stricken. 

"  It  is  late,"  she  said  hastily,  "  very  late. 
Good-night!" 

She  made  as  though  to  go  to  her  room.  And 
James  Hartmann,  still  full  of  that  new  fear  of 
his  own  good  fortune,  dared  not  stay  her. 

But  Peter  Grimm  did  not  hesitate. 

"  Katje !  "  pleaded  the  Dead  Man.     "  Is  Hap- 


"ONLY  ONE  THING  REALLY  COUNTS"    305 

piness  so  common  that  we  can  toy  with  it?  Is 
life's  greatest  joy  so  cheap  that  we  can  thrust  it 
aside  when  by  a  miracle  it  is  laid  at  our  feet? 
Can  we  afford  to  risk  everything  by  putting  off 
love  when  it  is  in  our  very  grasp?  " 

The  girl  hesitated,  paused,  and  seemed  to  busy 
herself  with  straightening  some  disarranged  arti 
cles  on  the  desk.  The  Dead  Man  came  and  stood 
beside  her. 

"  He  loves  you,  Katje,"  he  murmured.  "  And 
only  one  thing  really  counts — Love !  It  is  the 
only  thing  that  tells,  in  the  long  run.  Nothing  else 
endures  to  the  end.  Perhaps,  if  you  are  shy  now 
and  do  not  let  him  speak,  he  may  find  courage  to 
speak  to-morrow.  But  perhaps  he  may  not.  And 
are  you  willing  to  take  that  chance?" 

11  No!  "  cried  the  girl  in  quick  fear.     "  No!  " 

"What?"  asked  Hartmann,  startled  by  the 
frightened  denial,  so  meaningless  to  him. 

"  I — I  didn't  know  I  spoke,"  she  faltered,  em 
barrassed.  "  It  was  foolish  of  me.  I  had  some 
strange  thought.  And " 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  You  understand  less  and  less  every  minute, 
James,"  laughed  Peter  Grimm.  "  She  loves  you. 
Are  you  going  to  let  her  slip  through  your  fingers 


306       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

just  because  you  haven't  the  courage  to  speak? 
You  were  brave  enough  early  this  evening  when 
you  didn't  have  a  chance.  Now  that  she's  yours 
for  the  asking,  why  be  tongue-tied?  It  was  the 
fear  of  losing  you  that  made  her  cry  out  '  No ! ' 
just  now." 

"  Katje,"  demanded  Hartmann,  abashed  at  his 
own  audacity,  yet  unable  to  keep  back  the  words, 
"  were  you  afraid  I  wouldn't  be  here  in  the  morn 
ing  to  tell  you  I  loved  you?  Was  that  why  you 
said ?" 

"How  did  you  know?"  she  gasped  appalled. 
"  You  read  my  mind" 

Before  she  could  realise  the  meaning  of  what 
she  had  said,  she  found  herself  whirled  bodily 
from  the  floor  and  caught  close  in  the  grip  of 
two  strong  arms  that  crushed  her  to  a  heaving 
breast  And  Hartmann  was  raining  kisses  on  her 
hair,  her  eyes,  her  upturned  face. 

"James!"  she  panted,  "Don't!  Put  me 
down." 

"  Not  till  you  say  you  love  me,"  came  the  an 
swer  in  a  voice  from  whence  all  timidity  had 
forever  fled. 

The  tone  of  glad,  adoring  rulership  thrilled  her. 
She  ceased  her  half-hearted  struggles  to  free  her- 


"  ONLY  ONE  THING  REALLY  COUNTS  "    307 

self.  Her  arms,  through  no  conscious  effort  of 
her  own,  crept  upward  .until  .they  encircled  his 
neck. 

"  Say  you  love  me !  "  ire  demanded  again,  in 
that  glorious  Mastery  of  the  Loved. 

"  I  love  you,"  she  answered  obediently.  "  I 
have  always  loved  you,  I  think.  it's — it's  very 
wonderful  to  be  held  like  this  and — and  to  be  glad 
not  to  be  let  go.  I — I — I  don't  really  think  I 
wanted  you  to  let  me  go,  even  when  I  told  you  to." 

"  There  is  something  else  you  must  say  before 
I  let  you  go,"  he  demanded,  drunk  with  his  new 
born  power  and  happiness. 

"  Yes?     Fll  say  it." 

"  Say  you  will  marry  me  to-morrow." 

This  time,  from  sheer  amazement,  she  sprang 
back,  out  of  the  loosened  clasp  of  his  arms. 

"  To-morrow  ?  "  she  gasped.  "  Are  you  crazy  ? 
Why,"  with  a  little  shudder,  "  to-morrow  was  to 
be  the  day  I  was  to " 

"  To  marry  a  man  you  didn't  love.  That 
would  have  made  it  forever  a  day  of  shame.  You 
owe  '  to-morrow  '  something  to  atone  for  that. 
Pay  its  debt  by  marrying  me  then." 

"  I — I  can't,"  she  protested.  "  What— what 
would  people  say?  " 


308       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"Katje!"  broke  in  the  Dead  Man.  "When 
you  shall  have  learned  that  '  what  people  say '  is 
the  most  senseless  bugbear  in  all  this  wide  world  of 
senseless  bugbears,  you  will  be  far  on  the  road  to 
true  greatness.  You  will  have  broken  the  heavi 
est,  most  galling,  most  idiotically  useless  fetter 
that  weights  down  humanity.  Being  a  woman 
you  will  never  be  able  wholly  to  free  yourself 
from  that  same  fetter.  But  lift  its  weight  from 
your  soul  just  this  once !  You  were  going  to  curse 
your  life  with  a  blasphemously  wicked,  loveless 
marriage  to-morrow.  And  the  world  would  have 
approved.  You  have  a  chance  to  atone  for  an 
attempted  wrong  and  to  win  happiness  for  your 
self  and  the  man  you  love,  to-morrow,  by  marry 
ing  James  then.  A  few  representatives  of  the 
world  will  hold  up  their  hands  and  squawk :  *  How 
scandalously  sudden!  I  suppose  she  did  it  to 
show  she  didn't  mind  Frederik's  jilting  her.'  And 
for  the  sake  of  the  people  who  would  have  ap 
proved  a  crime  and  who  will  sneer  at  a  good  and 
wise  deed,  you  are  going  to  throw  away  many  days 
of  bliss,  and  senselessly  postpone  the  one  perfect 
Event  of  your  life.  Is  this  my  wise  little  girl  or 
is  it  some  one  just  as  stubborn  and  foolish  as  her 
old  uncle  used  to  be?  Tell  me." 


"  ONLY  ONE  THING  REALLY  COUNTS  "    309 

"  Why  should  we  care  what  '  people  say  '  ?  " 
urged  Hartmann  as  Kathrien  hesitated.  "  The 
opinions  of  other  people  wreck  lots  of  lives.  Let's 
be  great  enough  and  wise  enough  to  choose  our 
own  happiness !  Don't  let's  be  stubborn  like  poor 
old  Mr.  Grimm,  and " 

"  James !  "  she  cried  in  wonder.  "  Those  are 
just  the  very  things  I  was  thinking.  That's  the 
second  time  in  a  few  minutes  that  you  have  read 
my  mind." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  you  who  were  reading  mine," 
said  Hartmann.  "  That's  what  people  call  *  Tel 
epathy,'  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,"  smiled  the  Dead  Man.  "  That  is  what 
*  people  '  call  it — who  know  no  better.  Oh,  what 
a  jumble  people  do  make  of  the  simple  things  of 
the  Universe !  " 

"  Anyway,"  went  on  Hartmann,  without  wait 
ing  for  Kathrien  to  reply  to  his  question,  "  it 
doesn't  matter  which  of  us  thought  of  it  first.  It's 
enough  to  know  it's  true.  And  you  will  marry 
me  to-morrow?  " 

"  Yes!"  vociferated  Peter  Grimm. 

"  Y-yes,"  faltered  the  girl. 

"  Listen,  dear,"  continued  Hartmann,  "  we 
won't  be  very  well  off,  I'm  afraid.  I've  a  little 


310       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

money — but  not  much.  I  know  scientific  garden 
ing  as  not  many  men  know  it.  So  we  won't  starve. 
But  it  won't  be  as  if  you  were  going  to  marry  a 
rich  man  like  Frederik  Grimm." 

"Thank  Heaven,  it  won't!  "  she  breathed  fer 
vently.  "  And  do  you  suppose  it  will  matter  one 
bit  to  me  that  we  won't  be  rich  ?  I  wish,  of  course, 
that  we  didn't  have  to  leave  this  dear  old  house,, 
but " 

"  If  we  had  both  the  house  and  the  little  capital: 
that  belongs  to  me,"  answered  Hartmann,  "  we 
could  stay  on  here  and  make  a  splendid  living. 
But  what's  the  use  of  building  air  castles?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  urged  the  Dead  Man.  "  They're 
as  cheap  to  build  as  air  dungeons ;  and  a  million 
times  pleasanter  to-  live  in.  But,  don't  fret  about 
the  house.  Frederik  is  going  to  turn  it  over  ta 
you — I've  seen  to  that.  And  you  will  prosper, 
you  two,  here  in  the  home  I  loved." 

"  I  believe  it  will  come  out  all  right!  "  declared, 
the  girl.  "  I  have  a  feeling  that  it  will.  Intui 
tion  if  you  like." 

*  Intuition,'  "  repeated  the  Dead  Man  whim 
sically.  "  Yes.  Call  it  that,  if  you  choose.  '  In 
tuition  '  and  fc telepathy'  are  both  pretty  synonyms 
for  the  words  spoken  to  you  that  mortal  ears  are 


"ONLY  ONE  THING  REALLY  COUNTS"    311 

too  gross  to  understand  and  whose  sense  sometimes 
finds  vague  resting-place  in  mortal  brains." 

'"  It  will  come  out  all  right,"  she  reiterated, 
smiling  up  at  her  lover. 

"  It's  good  to  see  you  smile  again,"  said  Hart- 
mann,  once  more  drawing  her  close  to  him.  "  I'm 
glad  your  cloud  of  grief  is  'beginning  to  lift" 

"  It  has  lifted,"  she  returned.  "  When  Oom 
Peter  went  away,  and  seemed  utterly  lost  to  .me 
forever,  I  thought  my  heart  would  break.  But 
now — now  I  know  he  hasn't  gone.  I  know  he  has 
"been  here  with  me  this  very  evening." 

"  I— I  don't  understand." 

"  It  is  true,"  she  insisted.  "  You  must  believe 
it,  dear.  For  it  is  very  real  to  me.  I  believe  he 
came  back  to  set  me  free  from  my  promise  to 
Frederik.  Some  time — some  time,  I'll  tell  you 
all  about  it." 

11  In  the  meanwhile,"  adjured  the  Dead  Man, 
"  believe  lier,  James.  If  men  would  put  less  faith 
in  their  own  four-square  logic  and  more  faith  in 
their  wives'  illogical  beliefs,  there'd  be  fewer  mis 
takes  made." 

"  Don't  ask  me  any  more  about  it  to-night," 
begged  the  girl  in  response  to  the  amazed  ques 
tioning  in  her  lover's  eyes.  "  I  can't  speak  of  it 


312       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

just   yet.      It's   all    too    near — too    wonderful." 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  he  agreed.  "  Now  I  must 
go,  for  I  want  to  catch  Mr.  Batholommey  before 
he  goes  to  sleep,  and  make  the  arrangements  with 
him  for  the  wedding." 

His  arm  around  her,  they  crossed  to  where  his 
hat  and  coat  were  hanging. 

"I  wonder  if  Oom  Peter  can  see  us  now?" 
she  mused,  as  Hartmann  stooped  to  kiss  her  good 
night. 

"  That's  the  great  mystery  of  the  ages,"  an 
swered  Hartmann.  "  Who  can  tell?  But  I  wish 
he  might  know.  I  think,  seen  as  he  must  see 
things  now,  he  would  be  glad.  Good-night,  sweet 
heart." 

She  watched  him  stride  down  the  walk.  Then 
she  came  back  into  the  room,  her  eyes  alight. 

"  Oh,  Oom  Peter,"  she  murmured,  half  aloud. 

"  I  see,"  returned  Peter  Grimm.  "  I  know  all 
about  it.  I  know,  little  girl.  I  know." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"  ALL  THAT  HAPPENS,  HAPPENS  AGAIN  " 

LATE  as  was  the  hour,  Kathrien  yet  lingered  a 
few  minutes  longer  in  the  room  where  that  night 
her  freedom  and  her  life's  crown  had  come  to  her. 

She  paused  by  the  desk  and  lovingly  caressed 
the  rich,  red  mass  of  roses  which,  in  memory  of 
her  uncle,  she  daily  placed  there.  The  cool,  vel 
vety  touch  of  the  blossoms  was  like  a  living  re 
sponse  to  her  caress.  And  from  the  crimson  petals 
arose  a  faint,  drowsy  fragrance. 

Kathrien  sank  into  the  worn  desk  chair  and 
gazed  dreamily  into  the  dying  fire.  She  seemed 
to  read  there  a  wonderful  story.  Or  else  the  grey- 
red  embers  shaped  themselves  into  beautiful  pic 
tures.  For  her  face  was  joyous  beyond  all  belief. 

"  To-morrow  1  "  she  murmured  to  herself. 

And  Peter  Grimm,  looking  down  at  her,  smiled 
as  he  caught  the  whispered  word. 

"  Yes,  lievling,"  he  answered.  "  To-morrow. 
Isn't  it  a  marvellous  word?  It  holds  all  the  hopes 
and  fears  of  the  whole  world." 

"  I'm  so  happy !  I'm  so  happy!  "  she  breathed. 
313 


314       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

The  Dead  Man  laid  his  hand  gently  on  the  soft 
lustre  of  her  hair. 

"  Then,  good-night  to  you,  my  darling,"  he 
said  in  the  old  tender  voice  that  had  comforted 
her  childish  griefs  and  shared  her  childish  de 
lights  in  the  bygone  days.  "  Good-night,  my  dar 
ling.  Love  can  never  say  '  good-bye.'  I  am  go 
ing,  little  girl.  I  am  leaving  you  here  in  your 
dear  home  that  shall  always  be  yours.  Here,  in 
the  years  that  are  to  come,  the  way  will  lie  clear 
before  you.  May  pleasure  and  peace  go  with 
you,  little  girl  of  mine." 

Her  eyes  were  luminous.  There  was  a  half- 
smile  on  her  lips.  Peter  Grimm's  own  eyes  re 
flected  her  smile  as  he  stroked  her  hair  and  con 
tinued  to  look  down  into  her  rapt  face  as  though 
to  impress  its  every  detail  upon  his  memory. 

"  Here  on  sunny,  blossoming  days,"  he  went 
on,  "  when  you  look  out  on  my  old  gardens,  as 
a  happy  wife,  all  the  flowers  and  trees  and  shrubs 
shall  bloom  enchanted  to  your  eyes.  For,  love 
gives  a  heaven-light  to  everything.  And  when 
the  home  we  love  is  our  own,  it  becomes  doubly 
fair." 

The  light  in  her  eyes  grew  brighter  and  he 
stooped  to  brush  his  lips  to  her  forehead. 


"  ALL  THAT  HAPPENS,  HAPPENS  AGAIN  "    315 

"  All  that  happens,  happens  again,"  he  went 
on  in  that  same  caressing  voice  as  though  loath 
to  leave  her,  and  seeking  to  prolong  his  stay 
at  her  side.  "  And  when,  as  a  mother,  you  ex 
plain  each  leaf  and  bud,  and  the  miracle  of  the 
growing  flowers  to  your  own  little  people,  you 
will  sometimes  think  of  the  days  when  you  and 
I  walked  through  the  gardens  and  the  leafy  lanes 
together,  and  how  I  taught  you  all  those  things 
— even  as  you  shall  be  teaching  your  own  children. 
Yes, — all  that  happens,  happens  again  and  has 
happened  before.  You  will  teach  them,  just  as 
I  taught  you.  And  so  I  shall  always  linger  in 
your  heart.  Here,  in  our  home,  everything  will 
keep  on  reminding  you  of  me.  Not  in  sadness 
nor  in  gloom.  But  as  a  wonderful,  golden  mem 
ory.  You  will  forget  only  the  part  of  me  that 
was  stubborn  and  unreasonable  and  ill-tempered 
— and  you  will  remember  me  only  as  I  wished 
to  be.  That  is  one  of  the  gifts  of  God  to 
those  who  have  left  this  world.  Their  dear 
ones  remember  them  only  as  kind,  as  lov 
ing,  as  good.  Their  faults  fade  from  the  mem 
ory  and  the  good  ever  glows  more  and  more 
brightly." 

He  paused.     And  still  he  could  not  leave  the 


316      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

happy  girl  as  she  sat  there  in  her  blissful,  fireside 
reverie. 

"  I  shall  be  waiting  for  you,  Katje,"  he  said. 
"  And  I  shall  be  knowing  all  of  your  life,  its 
joys,  its  happy  toil  and  its  sweet  rest,  its  lights 
and  its  passing  shadows.  I  shall  love  your  chil 
dren  with  all  my  whole  heart.  And  I  shall  be 
their  grandfather  just  as  though  I  were  here.  I 
shall  be  everywhere  about  you  and  yours,  Katje. 
Always.  In  the  stockings  at  Christmas,  in  the 
big,  busy,  teeming  world  of  shadows,  just  outside 
your  threshold;  or  whispering  to  you  in  the  still 
ness  of  the  night.  And,  as  the  years  drift  on,  you 
can  never  know  what  pride  I  shall  take  in  your 
middle  life — the  very  best  age  of  all !  After  the 
luxuries  and  the  eager  gaieties  and  the  vanities 
and  the  possessions  and  the  hot  strife  for  gain 
cease  to  be  important,  we  return  to  very  simple 
things.  For  then,  sunset  is  at  hand,  and  the  peace 
of  Home  calls  to  us  far  more  clearly  than  the 
roar  of  the  outer  world.  The  evening  of  life 
comes  bearing  its  own  lamp." 

Her  face  had  grown  graver,  but  still  was  radi 
ant.  The  Dead  Man  smiled  as  he  said: 

"  Then,  as  a  little  old  grandmother — a  little  old 
child  whose  bedtime  is  drawing  near,  I  shall  still 


"  ALL  THAT  HAPPENS,  HAPPENS  AGAIN  "    317 

see  you;  happy  to  sit  out  in  the  sunlight  of  an 
other  day;  asking  no  more  of  life  than  a  few 
hours  still  to  be  spent  with  those  you  lovej — tell 
ing  your  grandchildren  how  much  more  brightly 
the  flowers  used  to  blossom  when  you  were  young. 
— All  that  happens,  happens  again. 

"And  then,  one  glad  day,  glorified,  radiant, 
young  once  more — divinely  young, — you  will  come 
to  us.  And  your  mother  and  I  shall  take  you  in 
our  arms  again.  Oh,  what  a  meeting  it  will  be! 
To  you,  many  happy  years  away.  To  us,  only  a 
brief  hour  of  waiting.  We  shall  meet  so  perfectly 
then — the  flight  of  Love  to  Love.  And  now," 
bending  down  once  more  and  kissing  her,  "  good 
night,  my  own  little  girl." 

She  rose,  half-dazzled  by  the  brightness  that 
filled  her  soul.  Pausing  to  bury  her  face 
for  a  moment  in  the  bowl  of  roses,  she  mur 
mured: 

"  Dear,  dear  Oom  Peter!  " 

Then,  slowly,  smilingly,  she  made  her  way  up 
the  stairs  to  her  own  room.  The  Dead  Man's 
eyes  followed  her  every  light  step.  The  Dead 
Man's  hand  was  raised  in  unspoken  benediction. 
Marta  bustled  in  from  the  kitchen  on  her  nightly 
round  of  window-locking  and  door-barring.  As 


318       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

she  passed  the  big  wall  clock,  she  stopped,  sighed 
right  lugubriously,  and  proceeded  to  wind  the 
ancient  timepiece  by  the  simple  old-time  process 
of  drawing  down  its  pulley  chain. 

"  Poor  old  Marta !  "  said  Peter  Grimm  quiz 
zically,  as  she  departed.  "  Every  time  she  thinks 
of  me,  she  winds  my  clock.  We're  not  quite  for 
gotten  after  all,  it  seems.  Good-night,  old 
friend!  There  are  a  few  tears  ahead  of  you. 
But  there  is  plenty  of  sunshine  beyond  them." 

He  glanced  about  the  room,  his  eyes  resting  at 
last  on  Willem's  door  in  the  gallery  above.  The 
door  swung  open,  and  Dr.  McPherson  appeared 
on  the  threshold.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  candle 
stick.  In  the  hollow  of  his  right  arm  lay  Willem, 
a  Dutch  patchwork  bedquilt  wrapped  around  him. 

"  All  right,  laddie,"  McPherson  was  saying  in 
a  voice  whose  softness  would  have  amazed  the 
Batholommeys.  "  Since  you  want  so  badly  to 
sleep  downstairs,  you  shall.  The  sofa  by  the 
fire  is  just  as  snug  as  your  own  bed.  What  Mis 
tress  Batholommey  will  say  to  my  giving  in  to  a 
sick  little  boy's  whim,  I  don't  know.  But  we 
don't  care.  Do  we,  Willem?  And,"  he  added, 
reaching  the  living-room  and  carrying  the  child 
across  to  the  sofa,  "  if  you  want  to  be  down  here, 


"  ALL  THAT  HAPPENS,  HAPPENS  AGAIN  "    319 

and  if  you  won't  be  happy  anywhere  else,  here 
you  shall  be." 

He  laid  Willem  gently  on  the  couch  and  cov 
ered  him  with  the  quilt. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  now?  "  he  asked. 

11  I'm  sleepy,"  answered  Willem.  "  It's  good 
to  be  in  this  room.  I'll  sleep  finely  here.  Could 
— could  I  have  a  drink  of  water,  please?  " 

The  doctor  crossed  to  the  sideboard.  The 
ice-water  pitcher  was  empty.  McPherson  took 
up  a  glass. 

"  I'll  find  you  some,"  said  he.  "  I  suppose  I'll 
never  learn  my  way  around  the  labyrinths  of  this 
old  house.  But  if  I  can't  get  to  the  nearest  faucet, 
I'll  wake  Marta  and  ask  her  to  help  me.  Lie 
still.  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute." 

He  picked  up  the  lighted  candle  again,  and 
started  off  on  his  quest.  As  he  left  the  room  he 
passed  close  by  Peter  Grimm. 

"  Good-night,  Andrew,"  said  the  Dead  Man. 
"  I'm  afraid  the  world  will  have  to  wait  a  little 
longer  for  the  Big  Guesser.  The  secret  you've 
delved  for  so  long  and  so  loudly  was  in  your 
own  hands  this  evening.  And  you  didn't  know 
what  to  do  with  it." 

The  doctor  left  the  room  without  hearing  him. 


320      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

But  Willem  heard.     Starting  up  on  the  couch,  the 
boy  cried: 

"  Oh,  Mynheer  Grimm  1     Where  are  you  ?     I 
knew  you  were  down  here — That's  why  I  wanted  to 


come." 


"  Here  I  am,"  answered  the  Dead  Man, 
ing  forward  into  the  range  of  the  anxiously  wan 
dering  blue  eyes. 

"  Oh !  "  gleefully  exclaimed  the  child.  "  I  see 
you  now !  I  see  you  now !  " 

"Yes?     At  last?" 

"Oh,  you've  got  your  hat!"  went  on  the 
boy  excitedly.  "  It's  off  the  peg.  You're  going!  " 

"  Yes,  Willem,"  replied  the  Dead  Man.  "  I'm 
going." 

"  Need  you  go  right  away,  Mynheer  Grimm?  " 
coaxed  the  child.  "  Can't  you  wait  just  a  little 
while?" 

"  I'll  wait  for  you,  dear  lad,"  returned  Peter 
Grimm. 

"  Oh,  can  I  go  with  you  ?  "  asked  the  boy  in 
glad  surprise.  "  Thank  you,  Mynheer  Grimm ! 
I  couldn't  find  the  way  without  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  could,  Willem.  God's  signal 
light  is  the  surest  thing  in  all  the  universe.  But 
I'll  wait  for  you,  just  the  same." 


"  ALL  THAT  HAPPENS,  HAPPENS  AGAIN  "    321 

The  boy's  drowsiness,  overcome  for  the  mo 
ment  by  his  sight  of  the  Dead  Man's  loved  face, 
had  crept  in  upon  him  once  more.  He  lay  back 
on  the  couch  with  a  happy  little  sigh. 

And  at  once  he  was  off  in  the  wonder-aisles  of 
dreamland — a  dreamland  full  of  circuses,  of  im 
possibly  funny  and  friendly  clowns,  of  street 
parade  glories,  of  marvellous  animals  and  thrill 
ing  equestrian  feats. 

"  Sleep  well,"  said  Peter  Grimm.  "  I  wish  you 
the  very  pleasantest  of  dreams  a  boy  could  have 
in  this  world." 

The  doctor's  step  sounded  presently  in  the  ad 
joining  kitchen.  As  though  awakened  by  it,  Wil- 
lem  opened  his  eyes  and  sat  up.  The  fever  flush 
was  gone  from  his  cheeks,  the  fever  glaze  from 
his  look.  The  lassitude  that  had  weighted  every 
joint  in  his  sick  little  body  had  fled,  to  be  replaced 
by  a  strange,  glorious  buoyancy. 

With  a  glad  shout,  Willem  sprang  up  and 
raced  across  the  floor  into  Peter's  Grimm's  out 
stretched  arms. 

"  Huge  moroche,  Mynheer  Grimm !  "  he  cried. 
"  Oh,  I  am  well!  I  never  was  so  well  before. 
It's  wonderful  to  be  like  this." 

"  You  are  happy,  too?  " 


322      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Oh !     Happy?     It's  like  school  being  over !  " 

"Good!"  laughed  Peter  Grimm.  "It  will 
always  be  like  that  now.  Come !  Let's  be  off." 

He  lifted  the  exalted,  eager  boy  lightly  from 
the  floor,  and  swung  him  to  a  perch  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Uncle  Rat  has  come  to  town!  "  sang  Willem, 
too  rapturously  happy  to  keep  still. 

"  Ha-H'M/  "  he  and  Peter  Grimm  chorused  as 
they  moved  toward  the  door. 

"  '  Uncle  Rat  has  come  to  town, 
To  buy ' " 

McPherson  came  in. 

"  Here's  the  water,  Willem,"  he  announced, 
going  over  to  the  couch.  "  I  got  it  at  last,  after 
barking  my  shins  over " 

He  glanced  at  the  sofa  and  its  occupant.  Then 
the  glass  fell  from  his  nerveless  hand.  He  knelt 
in  horror  beside  the  still,  white  little  body  that 
lay  there. 

"Dead I"   gasped  McPherson. 

"  No  I  "  exulted  Peter  Grimm  from  the  door 
way.  "  Not  dead,  Andrew,  old  friend.  There 
never  was  so  fair  a  prospect  for  life!  " 

"  Oh,"  sighed  Willem  blissfully,  his  arm  about 
Peter  Grimm's  neck,  "I'm  so  happy!  I  didn't 


"  ALL  THAT  HAPPENS,  HAPPENS  AGAIN  "    323 

know  any  one  could  be  so  happy  as  this — or  so 
well" 

"  If  only  the  rest  of  them  knew  what  they  are 
missing!  Hey,  Willem?  "  assented  Peter  Grimm, 

"  What  is  Dr.  McPherson  looking  at  there  on 
the  sofa?"  demanded  Willem.  "He  seema 
scared — and — and — unhappy.  What  is  he  looking 
at,  Mynheer  Grimm?" 

"  He  is  looking  at — nothing.  And  he  doesn't 
know  it.  Come !  " 

"  It's — it's  so  wonderful  to  be  alive!  "  cried 
Willem. 

They  passed  out,  and  the  door  of  the  house 
closed  noiselessly  behind  them. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   DAWNING 

NlGHT  had  given  place  to  red  dawn,  and  red 
dawn  to  white  day. 

Dr.  McPherson  came  out  of  the  Grimm  house 
and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  vine-bordered 
stoop.  He  was  very  tired.  He  had  had  a  hard 
and  trying  night.  In  his  ears  were  still  ringing 
the  sobs  of  old  Marta,  hastily  awakened  to  learn 
of  her  only  grandson's  death; — Kathrien's  quiet 
grief; — Mrs.  Batholommey's  excited,  high-pitched 
questionings  that  jangled  on  the  death  hush  as 
horribly  as  breaks  the  Venus  music  through  the 
Pilgrims'  Chorus. 

It  had  been  a  night  of  stark  wakefulness,  of  a 
myriad  details.  And  McPherson  had  borne  the 
brunt  of  it  all.  Now,  under  an  opiate,  Marta 
was  asleep.  Mrs.  Batholommey  had  trotted  pon 
derously  home  to  bear  the  black  tidings  of  a  pris 
oned  child's  Release  to  her  husband.  And  Kath- 
rien  had  gone  to  her  own  room  under  the  doctor's 
gruff  command  to  snatch  an  hour's  rest.  McPher 
son  himself  had  come  out  into  the  cool  and  fresh- 

324 


THE  DAWNING  325 

ness  of  the  new-born  world  for  a  breathing  space, 
and  to  think. 

The  June  day  was  young.  Very  young.  Under 
the  early  sun  the  grass  was  afire  with  dew  dia 
monds.  The  flowers,  dripping  and  fragrant,  held 
up  their  cups  to  the  light.  The  town  still  lay 
asleep.  Over  the  suburb  brooded  the  Hush  of 
the  primal  Wilderness,  creeping  back  furtively  and 
momentarily  to  its  long-lost  domain. 

And  presently  the  quiet  was  broken  by  the  swift 
recurring  click  of  heels  on  the  sidewalk.  Some 
one  was  coming  along  the  slumbrous  Main  street; 
and  coming  with  nervous  haste.  The  steps  turned 
in  at  the  ,Grimm  gate.  McPherson  raised  his 
blood-shot,  sleep-robbed  eyes  and  stared  crossly 
toward  the  newcomer. 

It  was  Frederik  Grimm.  And,  recognising 
him,  McPherson's  frown  deepened  into  a  scowl. 

"  Is  it  true  ?  "  asked  Frederik  as  he  stopped  in 
front  of  the  doctor.  "  I  met  Mrs.  Batholommey. 
She  was  just  passing  the  hotel  on  her  way  home. 
I  hadn't  been  able  to  sleep,  so  I  was  starting  out 
for  a  walk.  She  told  me " 

"That  Willem's  dead?"  finished  McPherson, 
with  brutal  frankness.  "  Yes,  it's  true.  Did  you 
suppose  that  it  was  a  new  vaudeville  joke?  " 


326       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

Frederik  stood  blinking,  blank-faced,  appar 
ently  failing  to  grasp  the  sense  of  the  doctor's 
words.  The  younger  man's  aspect  dully  irritated 
McPherson. 

"  Yes,"  he  reiterated,  "  the  boy's  dead.  The 
problem  of  supporting  him  needn't  bother  you 
now.  Not  that  it  ever  did.  He's  dead.  And 
it's  the  luckiest  thing  that  ever  happened  to 
him." 

Frederik  raised  one  hand  in  instinctive  protest. 
But  he  might  as  well  have  sought  to  stem  Niagara 
with  a  straw. 

The  doctor's  strained  nerves,  his  genuine  grief, 
his  dislike  for  the  dapper  young  man  before  him, 
combined  to  open  wide  the  floodgates  of  honest 
Scottish  wrath.  And  he  saw  no  cause  to  exercise 
self-control. 

"You're  in  luck!"  he  growled.  "The  law 
could  have  compelled  you  to  pay  some  such  munif 
icent  sum  as  four  dollars  a  week  for  his  mainten 
ance.  You're  safe  from  that  now.  And  I  con 
gratulate  you.  It'll  mean  an  extra  weekly  quart 
of  champagne  or  a  brace  of  musical  comedy  seats 
for  you.  The  law  is  stringent  and  I  was  going 
to  invoke  it  in  your  case.  You  smashed  a  decent 
girl's  life.  You  helped  bring  a  nameless  boy  into 


THE  DAWNING  327 

a  world  that  would  have  made  his  life  a  hell  as 
long  as  he  lived.  Just  because  his  father  hap 
pened  to  be  a  yellow  cur.  And,  in  penalty  for 
that  sin,  the  power  and  majesty  of  an  outraged 
law  would  have  assessed  you  about  one  per  cent 
of  your  yearly  income.  You're  lucky." 

Frederik  winced  as  though  he  had  been  lashed 
across  the  face. 

"  I  sometimes  wonder,"  continued  McPherson, 
urged  to  fresh  vehemence  by  sight  of  the  effect  he 
was  scoring,  "  if  hell  holds  a  worse  criminal  or 
a  more  mercilessly  punished  one  than  the  man  or 
woman  who  lets  a  little  child  suffer  needlessly — 
who  makes  it  suffer.  And  of  all  the  suffering  that 
can  be  heaped  upon  a  child,  everything  else  is  like 
a  feather's  weight  compared  to  sending  it  out  in 
life  with  a  name  such  as  Willem  would  have  borne. 
Oh,  but  God's  merciful  when  He  finds  little  chil 
dren  crying  in  the  dark  and  leads  them  Home! 
Batholommey  and  the  rest  of  them  sneer  at  me 
for  sticking  to  the  old  hell-fire  Calvin  doctrines 
in  these  days  of  pew-cushion  religion.  But  I  tell 
you,  in  all  reverence,  if  there's  no  hell  for  the 
people  who  torture  children,  then  it's  time  the 
Almighty  turned  awhile  from  pardoning  sinners 
and  built  one." 


328       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

"  Don't  worry,"  said  Frederik  shortly.  "  There 
is  one.  I  know.  I  am  in  it." 

"'Mourner's  bench  talk,'  eh?  It's  cheap. 
Penitence  is  always  on  the  free  list.  And  in  your 
case,  as  in  most,  it  comes  too  late  to  do  any  good, 
except  to  salve  the  penitent's  feelings.  Willem 
lived  in  the  same  house  with  you  for  three  years. 
All  around  him  was  Love.  Except  from  the  one 
person  whose  sacred  duty  it  was  to  give  that 
Love.  We  pitied  him.  We  knew  what  he'd  be 
facing  if  he  lived.  We  made  his  childhood  as 
happy  as  we  could,  so  that  he'd  have  at  least  one 
bright  thing  to  look  back  on  afterward.  He  was 
nothing  to  any  of  us.  Except  that  he  was  a  child 
crippled  and  maimed  and  fore-damned  for  life  in 
the  worst  way  any  Unfortunate  could  be.  We 
pitied  him  and  we  loved  him.  Did  he  ever  hear 
a  harsh  word  or  see  a  forbidding  face?  Yes;  he 
did.  From  one  person  alone.  From  you,  his 
father.  Even  last  night  when  he  crept  downstairs 
parched  with  thirst,  and  begged  you  for  a  drink 
of  water " 

"Don't!"  cried  Frederik,  in  sharp  agony. 
"  Do  you  suppose  you  can  tell  me  anything  about 
that?  Do  you  suppose  I  haven't  gone  over  it  all — 
yes,  and  over  all  the  three  years — a  hundred  times 


THE  DAWNING  329 

since  I  heard  he  was  dead?  Do  you  think  you 
can  make  me  feel  it  any  more  damnably  than  I  do  ? 
If  so,  go  ahead  and  try.  You  spoke  of  the  need 
for  a  hell.  You  can  spare  your  advice  to  the 
Almighty.  He  has  made  one.  And  I  can't  even 
wait  until  I'm  dead  before  I  walk  through  it." 

"  Through  it,"  assented  McPherson  sardonic 
ally.  "  Through  it  with  many  a  lamentable  groan 
and  a  beating  of  the  breast,  and  with  squeaky 
little  wails  of  remorse — and  on  through  it,  out 
onto  the  pleasant  slopes  of  forgetfulness  and  new 
mischief.  Take  my  condolences  on  your  fearful 
passage  through  your  purgatory.  I  fear  me  it 
will  take  you  the  best  part  of  a  week  to  pass 
entirely  out  of  it.  It's  only  a  man-built  hell,  that 
of  yours.  And,  according  to  the  modern  theo 
logians,  God  has  no  worse  one  for  you  later 
on." 

With  twitching,  pallid  face,  and  anguished 
eyes,  Frederik  Grimm  looked  dumbly  at  his  tor 
mentor.  Even  in  his  agony,  he  felt,  subconsciously, 
far  down  in  his  atrophied  soul,  that  the  doctor's 
forecast  as  to  the  duration  of  his  remorse's  torture 
was  little  exaggerated. 

Yet,  for  the  moment,  his  "  man-built  hell  "  was 
grilling  and  racking  the  stricken  penitent  to  a  point 


330      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

that  the  Spanish  Inquisition's  ingenuity  could  never 
have  devised. 

McPherson,  with  a  sombre  satisfaction,  noted 
the  younger  man's  misery.  Then  a  wistful  look 
flitted  across  his  gnarled,  bearded  face. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  mused,  his  angry  voice  sink 
ing  to  a  rumble,  "  I  wonder  if  you  can  guess — 
and  of  course  you  can't — what  a  prize  you  spent 
eight  years  in  throwing  away.  You  had  a  son. 
And  you  disowned  him  and  turned  your  back  on 
him.  I've  had  no  son.  I  shall  never  have  a  son. 
And  when  I  go  out  into  the  dark,  there'll  be  no 
man-child  to  carry  on  my  name.  No  lad  to  in 
herit  this  brute  body  of  mine  with  all  its  strength 
and  giant  endurance;  this  brain  of  mine,  that  has 
tried  so  hard  to  perfect  itself  and  to  give  its 
possible  successor  the  faculty  for  thought  and 
work  and  self-mastery.  My  father  was  a  strong 
man,  a  great  man.  And  much  of  the  little  power 
and  goodness  and  worthiness  that  exist  in  me,  I 
owe  to  him.  No  man  in  future  years  can  say 
that  of  me.  It  must  be  something  that  no  child 
less  man  can  understand  or  dream  of,  to  feel  the 
fingers  of  one's  little  son  tugging  at  one.  To, — 
Lord!  What  would  Mother  Batholommey  say 
if  she  could  hear  me  maundering  and  havering 


THE  DAWNING  331 

away  like  this!  It  means  nothing  to  you,  either. 
Except  that  you've  had,  and  hated,  and  thrown 
away  what  many  a  better  man  would  give  half 
his  life  for." 

There  was  a  short  silence.  McPherson, 
ashamed  of  blurting  his  sacred  heart  secrets  to  a 
fellow  he  detested,  sat  gnawing  angrily  at  his 
ragged  grey  moustache.  Frederik,  to  whom  the 
last  part  of  the  doctor's  tirade  had  passed  un 
heard,  stood  gazing  sightlessly  at  the  ground  be 
fore  him.  And  for  a  space,  neither  of  them 
spoke. 

At  length  Frederik  looked  up,  almost  timidly. 

"  Could — might  I  see  him?  "  he  asked. 

"H'm?"  grunted  McPherson,  starting  from 
the  maze  of  his  own  unhappy  thoughts. 

"  I  say,  may  I  go  in  and  see ?  " 

"  Had  three  years  to  see  him  in,  didn't  you?  " 
demanded  McPherson.  "  I  can't  recall  now  that 
I  ever  saw  you  glance  at  him  when  you  could  help 
it.  Why  should  you  go  in  and  see  him  now? 
You  can't  frighten  him  any  more." 

He  checked  himself. 

'  That  last  was  a  rotten  thing  for  me  to  say," 
he  muttered  grudgingly.     "  I'm  sorry." 

But  Frederik  showed  no  signs  of  resentment. 


332       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

He  was  looking  moodily  at  the  ground  once  more, 
apparently  engrossed  in  the  fruitless  efforts  of  a 
red  ant  on  the  walk's  edge  to  lug  away  a  dead 
caterpillar  forty  times  its  size.  The  doctor  peered 
at  him  almost  apologetically  from  under  his  grey 
thatch  of  eyebrow.  The  younger  man's  face  still 
wore  that  same  blank,  dazed  mask,  as  though 
horror  had  wiped  it  clean  of  expression.  Again 
it  was  Frederik  who  broke  the  silence. 

"  I  remember  once,"  said  he,  in  a  dreary  mon 
otone,  "  when  he  was  four  years  old.  He  saw  a 
woolly  lamb  in  a  shop  window  and  wanted  it. 
I'd  lost  ninety  dollars  that  day  at  the  races  and 
I  was  sore.  He  begged  me  to  buy  him  the  lamb. 
It  cost  only  a  quarter.  I  wouldn't.  I  told  him 
he  ought  to  be  content  to  sponge  on  me  for  food 
and  clothes  without  wanting  presents,  too.  I  re 
member  he  cried  when  I  pulled  him  away  from 
the  shop  window.  And  I  hit  him.  I  wish — I 
wish  I'd " 

"  If  there's  anything  worse  than  a  hardened 
criminal,"  snorted  McPherson,  "  it's  a  silly,  sen 
timental  one.  You  say  you  want  to  go  in  and 
see  him?  Go  ahead  then.  You  don't  have  to 
ask  my  leave.  It's  your  own  house,  isn't  it?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Frederik,  "  it  isn't." 


THE  DAWNING  333 

"  Huh?  Oh,  I  remember  now.  You  said  last 
night  you  were  going  to  give  it  to  Kathrien. 
Don't  worry.  A  promise  like  that  isn't  binding 
in  law.  And  you'll  repent  of  it  almost  as  soon 
as  you'll  stop  repenting  for  Willem." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  agreed  Frederik.  "  But  it  will  be 
too  late  then.  Here,"  he  went  on,  pulling  a  long 
envelope  from  his  pocket,  "  take  charge  of  this, 
will  you,  and  give  it  to  Kathrien  for  her  signature 
in  case  I  don't  see  her?  " 

"What  is  it?"  asked  McPherson,  mechanic 
ally  taking  the  envelope  as  Frederik  thrust  it  into 
his  hand. 

"  Before  I  went  to  the  hotel  for  a  room  last 
night,"  answered  the  other,  "  I  called  on  Colonel 
Lawton  and  got  him  to  draw  it  up.  All  it  lacks 
is  her  signature." 

"What ?" 

"  It  is  a  deed  for  the  house  and  the  twelve-acre 
*  home  plot '  it  stands  on.  That  includes  the  two 
cottages  over  on  Mclntyre  Street.  They're  both 
rented  and  in  good  condition.  They'll  bring  her 
in  nearly  eight  hundred  a  year.  It's  less  than 
my  uncle  would  have  left  her  if  he'd  known " 

"  He  knew,"  interrupted  McPherson  decisively. 
"  And  that's  why  you  did  it.  As  you  said  last 


334       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

night,  '  somebody  has  been  doing  your  thinking 
for  you.'  " 

"  I'm  glad  for  your  own  peace  of  mind  that  you 
aren't  forced  to  give  me  credit  for  it,"  said  Fred- 
erik  in  lifeless  irony.  "  I'll  go  in  now,  if  I  may. 
I  shall  not  stay  long.  And  then  for  New  York. 
It's  the  best  place  I  know  of  for  hastening  one's 
journey  through  and  out  of  the  '  man-built  hell ' 
you  spoke  about.  Oh,  and  I  gave  Lawton  direc 
tions  about  Anne  Marie,  too.  She  can  come  home 
now  if  she  wants  to  without  being  dependent  upon 
any  one  for  her  support.  You're  quite  right, 
Doctor.  Somebody  has  been  doing  my  thinking. 
I'm  glad  it  stopped  before  I  went  broke." 

With  something  of  his  old  jaunty  air  he 
mounted  the  steps  and  went  into  the  house. 
McPherson  stared  after  him  with  a  glower  that 
somehow  would  not  remain  ferocious.  Then  he 
got  up,  stretched  his  great  shaggy  bulk,  yawned, 
and  started  homeward  for  breakfast. 

On  the  way  he  met  Mr.  Batholommey,  hastily 
awakened  and  hurrying  to  the  house  of  mourn 
ing. 

"  Doctor!  "  exclaimed  the  clergyman  in  agita 
tion.  "  This  is  very  distressing.  Very." 

"  As  usual,"   drawled   McPherson,   "  I   find  I 


THE  DAWNING  335 

can't  agree  with  you.  To  me  it  seems  a  blessed 
release." 

"  And  on  Kathrien's  wedding  day,  too !  "  went 
on  Mr.  Batholommey,  to  whom  McPherson's  eter 
nal  disagreement  had  become  so  chronic  he  scarce 
noticed  it.  "  At  least,  on  the  day  that  was  to 
have  been  her  wedding  day!  Young  Hartmann 
waked  me  out  of  a  sound  sleep  last  night  to  tell 
me  she  had  promised  to  marry  him  to-day.  And 
he  asked  me  to  be  at  the  house  promptly  at  eleven. 
But,  of  course,  now " 

"  Of  course,  now,"  put  in  the  doctor,  "  the 
wedding  is  going  to  take  place  just  the  same." 

"But 1" 

"  I  argued  with  Kathnen  a  whole  half-hour 
this  morning  before  she  would  agree  to  it,"  went 
on  the  doctor.  "  But  at  last  I  persuaded  her  it 
was  the  only  thing  to  do.  If  ever  she  needs  a 
husband's  help  and  advice,  now  is  the  time.  And 
at  last  I  made  her  understand  that.  So,  she  and 
James  will  be  married  to-day.  Just  as  they 
planned  to.  The  only  difference  will  be  that 
they'll  come  to  the  rectory  for  the  ceremony." 

"It  seems  almost — shall  I  say  indecorous?" 
protested  Mr.  Batholommey. 

u  The  real  things  of  life  generally  do,"  replied 


336      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

the  doctor.  "  Good-morning.  I'm  going  to  be 
so  indecorous  as  to  hurry  home  for  a  bath  and  a 
breakfast  instead  of  catching  cold  standing  out 
here  on  a  wet  street  discussing  other  people's 
business." 

He  strode  on.     Mr.  Batholommey,  murmuring 
dazedly  to  himself,  took  up  his  own  journey. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   GOOD-BYE 

FREDERIK  GRIMM  turned  away  from  looking  down 
at  the  pathetically  small  figure  in  the  darkened 
room.  His  face  was  expressionless.  He  had 
stood  there  but  a  few  minutes.  And  his  eyes, 
riveted  on  the  still,  white  little  form,  had  not 
softened  nor  blurred  with  tears. 

Wearily  he  descended  the  gallery  stairs  into  the 
living-room,  where  the  morning  sunlight  was  al 
ready  turning  the  desk  bowl  of  roses  into  a  riot  of 
burning  colour. 

He  was  halfway  across  the  room,  toward  the 
door,  when  he  was  aware  that  Kathrien  had  risen 
from  the  desk  chair  and  was  looking  at  him. 
Her  look  was  cold  and  devoid  of  pity  as  she 
surveyed  him.  But  as  he  halted,  hesitant,  the 
sunlight  fell  full  on  his  face.  And  in  the  visage 
that  had  seemed  so  vapidly  blank  to  McPherson, 
she  read  much. 

The  cold  glint  died  from  her  eyes  and  she 
stepped  forward  with  hand  outstretched. 

"  Frederik,"  she  said  gently. 
337 


338       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

He  came  haltingly  toward  her.  He  held  out 
his  hand  to  meet  hers.  But  he  could  not  touch 
the  fingers  that  were  waiting  to  press  his  own. 
His  hand  fell  Kmply  to  his  side. 

She  understood.  And  the  warm  pity  in  her 
face  deepened. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said  simply. 

"  He   is  happier,"   muttered  the  man. 

"  I  don't  mean  for  Willem.  For  you.  You 
understand  what  it  all  means  at  last." 

"  And,  too  late,"  he  assented.  "  It  is  always 
too  late — when  one  understands." 

"  It  is  never  too  late,"  she  denied  eagerly. 
"  Frederik,  you  have  everything  ahead  of  you. 
You  can " 

"  I  have  nothing  ahead  of  me,"  he  contradicted 
dully. 

"  You  have  wealth,  youth,  the  power  to  undo 
what  wrong  you  did, — to  start  afresh " 

u  As  the  broken-winged  bird  has  the  power  to 
start  a  new  flight.  Don't  waste  your  divine  sym 
pathy  on  me,  Kitty.  It  would  be  thrown  away. 
In  a  very  little  time,  as  Dr.  McPherson  has 
kindly  pointed  out  to  me,  I  shall  be  convales 
cent  from  my  attack  of  remorse.  And  then 
all  life  will  lie  before  me,  as  you  say.  All 


THE  GOOD-BYE  339 

life  except  the  one  thing  that  makes  life  worth 
living." 

He  stopped.       For  he  saw  she  understood. 

"  You  always  understood,"  he  went  on,  voic 
ing  his  thought.  "  That  was  one  of  the  wonder 
ful  things  about  you,  Kitty.  Even  now,  you  saw 
the  pain  I  am  in.  And  it  made  you  forget  what 
you  believe  I  am.  It  was  sweet  of  you.  It  will 
be  good  to  remember." 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  she  said. 

"  You  have  helped  me,"  he  answered.  "  For 
you've  given  me  a  Memory  to  carry  till  I  can 
shake  off  the  load — till  I  can  get  clear  of  McPher- 
son's  '  man-built  hell.'  It  won't  be  long.  So 
don't  worry.  Even  now,  my  common  sense  tells 
me  I've  made  a  fool  of  myself.  And  I'm  human 
enough  to  be  more  ashamed  of  being  a  fool  than 
of  being  a  knave.  I  had  everything  in  my  own 
hands.  And  I  threw  away  the  game  because  an 
attack  of  fright  kept  me  from  playing  my  win 
ning  cards.  Last  night  I  was  afraid  of  a  ghost. 
This  morning  I'm  sane  enough  to  know  that 
ghosts  were  invented  by  the  first  nervous  man  who 
was  alone  at  night.  This  morning  I  am  heart 
broken  because  my  little  boy  lies  dead.  To-mor 
row  I  shall  be  sane  enough  to  know  that  it  is  as 


340      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

lucky  for  me  as  it  is  for  him,  that  he  died.  And 
in  a  week  I'll  be  congratulating  myself  over  it  all 
and  revelling  in  a  freedom  and  a  fortune  I've 
always  craved.  So  you  see  I'm  quite  incur 
able." 

"Why  do  you  say  such  things?"  she  cried. 
"  You  know  they  aren't  true." 

"  When  I  said  you  '  always  understand,'  Kitty, 
I  was  wrong.  You  don't  understand.  No 
woman  understands — that  a  man  doesn't  reform. 
A  good  man  may  have  taken  a  wrong  twist.  And 
when  he  finds  his  way  back  to  the  straight  road, 
they  say  he  has  *  reformed.'  He  hasn't.  He's 
only  struck  his  own  natural  gait  again.  As  he 
was  bound  to.  And  my  kind  of  man  sometimes 
takes  a  momentary  twist  in  the  right  direction. 
Then  people  say  he  has  reformed.  And  they  are 
just  as  much  mistaken  as  they  were  in  the  other 
case.  For,  water  won't  run  uphill  after  the  first 
pressure  is  withdrawn." 

"  But  in  the  fires  of  affliction " 

;<  The  fires  of  affliction,"  he  retorted  sadly, 
"  have  burned  away  the  dross  from  the  pure  gold 
of  many  a  soul,  I  suppose.  But  no  fires  were  ever 
heated  that  could  burn  dross  fiercely  enough  to 
turn  it  into  gold.  Yet " 


THE  GOOD-BYE  341 

He  hesitated,  then  said,  without  daring  to  look 
at  her: 

"  There's  one  thing  I  do  want  you  to  know, 
Kitty.  Whatever  I  was  and  am,  and  whatever 
shams  went  to  make  up  my  daily  life  here — you 
know  my  love  for  you  was  true  and  absolute  and 
that  I  loved  and  love  you  more  than  the  whole 
world  besides?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  returned,  unembarrassed.  "  I  be 
lieve  that,  Frederik.  In  part.  You  loved  me  as 
much  as  you  could  love  any  one.  But " 

"Why  must  there  be  a  'but'?"  he  entreated. 

"  But,"  she  went  on  with  the  relentlessness  of 
the  Young,  "  not  as  much  as  you  loved  your 
self." 

"  More!  Ten  thousand  times  more!  "  he  de 
clared  vehemently. 

"  No,"  she  contradicted.  "  For  you  didn't 
love  me  enough  to  give  me  up  when  you  knew  I 
cared  for  another  man.  The  Perfect  Love  would 
have " 

"  The  '  perfect  love  ' !  "  he  scoffed.  "  I  have 
read  of  it  But  I  have  yet  to  see  it." 

"  You  cannot  see  it,"  she  replied,  "  for  the 
same  reason  I  could  not  see  Oom  Peter  when 
he  was  fighting  my  battle  here  last  night.  My 


342      THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

eyes  were  blinded  by  the  world  I  live  in.  Perfect 
love  is  everywhere.  It  is  within  and  about  us. 
But " 

"  But  I  would  be  too  ignoble  to  recognise  it 
if  I  chanced  upon  it?  Perhaps.  But  why  strip 
me  of  my  last  illusion?  In  the  torment  of  my 
self-abasement  this  morning,  I  have  clung  to  that 
one  comfort:  That  I  love  you  with  a  love  which 
a  truly  worthless  man  could  not  feel.  And 
now " 

"Don't  misunderstand  me,"  she  begged,  half- 
tearfully.  "  I—" 

'  You  have  shown  me  the  truth.  And  I  ought 
to  thank  you  for  it.  Perhaps  some  day  I  can.  If 
I  still  remember  it  then.  Good-bye,  dear.  I 
shan't  be  here  again.  I've — I've  left  you  a  little 
present.  Dr.  McPherson  will  give  it  to 
you." 

"  But  I  can't  take " 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can.  It  isn't  really  from  me. 
That's  just  another  of  my  lies  to  make  a  good 
impression.  I've  gotten  so  in  the  habit  of  telling 
them  that  it  is  going  to  take  me  a  long  time  to 
realise  that  one  of  the  chief  advantages  of  being 
a  rich  man  is  the  immunity  from  the  need  to  lie. 
The  present  isn't  really  from  me.  It's  from  Oom 


THE  GOOD-BYE  343 

Peter.  You  can't  refuse  it  from  him.  If  you 
doubt  it's  Oom  Peter's  own  direct  gift,  ask  Dr. 
McPherson.  It  was  bad  enough,"  he  sighed,  in 
mock  despair,  "  for  Oom  Peter  to  squander  so 
much  of  my  money  while  he  was  alive,  without 
keeping  on  doing  it  after  he  died.  I  hope  he 
has  stopped  it  at  last.  Or  I'll  soon  be  reduced 
to  standing  at  the  subway  steps  with  a  tin  cup  in 
my  hand." 

Through  the  forced  lightness,  whose  effort 
wrung  sweat  from  the  man's  forehead,  Kathrien 
was  woman  enough  to  see  the  mortal  agony  that 
lay  beneath.  And  again  she  held  out  her 
hand. 

"  Good-bye,  Frederik,"  she  said  gently.  "  And 
may  you  be  happy!  " 

He  looked  doubtfully  at  the  shapely  little  hand. 
Then,  with  an  awkwardness  strangely  foreign  to 
his  normal  grace,  he  took  the  hand  in  both  his 
own  and  stood  a  moment,  looking  down  at  it  as 
though  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  it. 

Then,  very  simply,  he  fell  on  his  knees,  touched 
the  warm,  roseleaf  palm  to  his  lips,  got  up  and, 
without  looking  back,  hurried  out  of  the  house. 

Kathrien  watched  his  slender,  carefully 
groomed  figure  until  it  was  lost  at  a  turn  in  the 


344       THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM 

rose  bushes.     Then  she  came  back  into  the  room 
and  stood  beside  Peter  Grimm's  old  chair. 

"  Oom  Peter!"  sKe  whispered.  "This  is  my 
wedding  day.  You  know  it,  don't  you?  And 
— oh,  please  let  me  think  you  are  close — close — • 
beside  me  all  the  time  1  " 


THE  END 


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UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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